


Bruises(DNF)

by shutupimnotobsessed



Series: hurting and healing [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bisexual Male Character, Gay, Gay Male Character, M/M, Pain, Plot, References to Depression, Sad Ending, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:40:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 45,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29141643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupimnotobsessed/pseuds/shutupimnotobsessed
Summary: (TW: MENTIONS OF ABUSE)   George and high school do not mix well, especially when you mix in his family troubles. George always was quiet in school, but he wasn't afraid to defend himself. He knew how to fight, but that was only because he NEEDED to learn how to fight. George constantly got ridiculed for various reasons, seeing as he was the "quiet kid". He was skinnier than most of the kids at school, and he was a lone wolf. And, at home, things couldn't get much worse. With his mother leaving at a young age, and his father. a raging alcoholic with anger issues, George was mentally, and physically drained. George was tired. He IS tired.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Sapnap - Relationship
Series: hurting and healing [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2186553
Comments: 50
Kudos: 106





	1. broken mentality

broken mentality

(TW: MENTIONS OF ANXIETY AND ABUSE, LIGHT SWEARING)

George. Nothing seems off about him. To the average eye, he just looks like he wants to be alone. He may be quiet, but everyone is at some point in their lives. To the average eye, he's am average guy(AYO did you like that rhyme). George, though, is not the average guy. Quite literally, he is the exact opposite.

George woke up at 6 am, sweating profusley onto his cotton bed sheets. A nightmare. Again. The funny thing is, it is always the same exact nightmare, but with different outcomes. The nightmare George has had since he was nine years old still manages to find new ways to break George down, piece by piece. George yearns for the day the nightmares come to an utter stop. He yearns for the day where he isn't reminded of the burning pain inside of his heart. He yearns for peace.

George has always struggled mentally. He has severe anxiety, which is understandable from his perspective. The average person would be worried if he didn't have anxiety. George not only gets attacked physically and mentally by the people from his pristine high school, but also gets drained the same way by his own father. His mother abandoned him when he was a little boy, taking away one of his only motivations to keep surviving; his sister.

His sister and himself were very close. To be fair, they had to be close. They were each other's protection system, not only from their father, but from their own minds. George has always had a sense of discomfort with himself. He struggled just looking at himself in the mirror because he wasn't comfortable in his own skin. George never had an escape until his sister. They looked out for each other, even when they got into arguments. Those arguments never lasted long; they couldn't last long. Not when their father was around.

George still misses his sister. In some ways, there will always be a part of George's heart missing. His sister was like the last puzzle piece to George's complex puzzle. His heart will always ache, will always yearn for his sister to come back. How George has dealt with every pain-filled thing?

Incredible is an understatement.

The nightmare George has, understandably, revolves around his sister. George always wakes up in a forest, surrounded by the, what seemed to be, infinite evergreens as the moon shined down on his pasty skin. Every time George tries to speak in this alternate reality, his words get stuck, constantly trying to escape the dreadful prison that is his throat. Instead of the words coming out of George's mouth, violent screams surround him from every tree. the screams are from his sister. George has always tried to find his sister through the thick evergreens, yet he has only found his sister a couple of times. Those times...he wishes he never followed the screams.

That night, he hadn't found his sister through the dark forest, and in some ways, George is relieved. relieved he doesn't have to see his sister being tortured by the shadow man, well, at least that's what George calls him.

fuck I'm gonna be late 

George races to get out of his comfortable bed and takes a shower. He hops out the shower and puts on a light gray hoodie with black sweat pants. He vigorously brushes his teeth and silently goes down stairs. His father is laying on the couch, motionless, next to too many empty beers to count...like always.

He grabs his bag and quietly exits the door, trying not to disturb his sleeping father; Not that it would matter anyways. He was out like a light. George sighs and sprints down the side walk, hoping to catch the bus. He hates taking the bus, but there's nothing else he can do. His father is clearly not in a state to drive, and his bike was taken by his father for "disciplining purposes". Thankfully, George caught the bus in time. He put his hood up, put his headphones on, and took a seat near the front, praying no one sits next to them. He isn't ready for the torment that is bound to happen. 

George starts playing the song Yellow by Coldplay. It reminds him of his sister. George knows the meaning to the song; everyone does. He never realized he even had a "yellow".(A/N a yellow is someone who makes you happy:)) Until now. George's eyes widen as he starts to realize that his sister was his yellow. His sister was his happiness.

He lost his happiness.

As the vulnerable tears started filling George's chestnut eyes, he wiped them away considerably quick, not wanting to deal with the ridicule on the bus ride to school. As he turned up the song on his phone, he felt a thump next to him. As he looked over to see who was sitting next to the short brunette, he recognized the dirty blond hair, he recognized the emerald eyes, he recognized the signature lime green hoodie. Of course he recognized his terrorizer.

"Hey Georgie," Dream said, with an evil smirk arriving on his face.

This is going to be a long day.

(872 words)

A/N hey guys!!! This wasn't the longest chapter and I apologize, BUT there will be considerably longer chapters in the future! This is going to be the main story I work on for now and I hope you guys enjoy! Just a reminder THIS STORY IS FICTION so do not assume I am assuming anything about Dream, George, or any of the other people in this story. If George, Dream, or anyone else is even slightly bothered by this story, I will not hesitate to delete it. Enjoy the story:)


	2. black and blue

(TW: LIGHT SWEARING, FIGHTING)

"Why are you here Clay?" George asks the taller blond, clearly aggravated.

Clay(also known as Dream) is, if you couldn't conclude this already, one of the most, if not the most, popular guys in school. George doesn't understand why everyone obsesses over him though. Clay only causes pain in others and sits there looking pretty. Still, everyone manages to fall for him. George will never understand. 

Well, maybe not never.

"I'm here to talk to you dumbass. Hand it over," Clay responds in an almost aggressive tone. George hands over the homework without a fight, cause he knows what will happen if he resists. He made that mistake once...he won't do it again.

"Hmm...thanks Georgie. Now, I think ill walk you to class today."

Oh just perfect

"oh...okay," George sighs. Maybe it won't be as bad as he expects it to be. Maybe all he is doing is walking him to class. Maybe, it will be okay.

yeah...he was wrong.

As Clay strutted out of the bus as women pined for the popular terrorizer, George shuffled behind, hoping "Dream" would forget about what he was planning to do with him. 

he didn't forget.

"Georgieeeee, keep up slow fuck," Clay yells while his arms hang around two beautiful blondes.

fuck

George keeps his head down as he strides across the cold pavement. As he slowly catches up with Dream, he hears a familiar voice from behind him. 

he's in trouble.

Nick "Sapnap" Johnson. The best friend of Clay. While Dream drains George mentally, Sapnap drains George physically. Dream tears apart George's already low self esteem, while Sapnap beats George up over the smallest mistake in words. They are slowly tearing George down, and it is so much harder to not think about death with the two psychos ripping George's world apart. Not to mention the fact that George has already lost his main reason to live; his yellow.

______

Dream pulls the shorter brunette into the men's bathroom, with Nick falling behind. When the three finally arrive at the bathroom and they see no one around, it begins.

Punch after punch, kick after kick. Black eye. Bruises. So many bruises. Everything hurts. Headache. Hurting ribs. Pain. Endless Pain.

That's when it all went black.

________

"George Davidson? Are you awake?"

George grunts and slowly widens his eyes, to see himself laying on a rough surface. He peers around the room to see the school nurse staring at him, worry can clearly be seen in her ocean blue eyes. He tries to stand up, but his head will not allow it, as he starts to stand he feels as if he is going to faint. Again. 

"Let's not faint again, perhaps?" The nurse giggles at her own joke. George fakes a laugh, just so the lady doesn't feel bad. George knows everything about feeling bad.

"So it looks like you'll be going home for at least the day. Do you remember how you got hurt? More importantly, do you remember who hurt you?"

George debated on telling the nurse his memories of the beating. He remembers who caused the bruises of not only his body, but his mind. Of course he remembers the bruises. How could he forget? The thing is that if he told ANYONE about Clay and Nick, he knows he's dead; no one would be there to defend him. His father doesn't care about him...no one does. At least, no one that is still here with him.

George decided to keep his secrets.

"Uhh I-I'm sorry. N-No I...I don't remember," George responds in a quiet, almost nervous tone.

Even if the nurse noticed the change in tone, she didn't bring it up.

"Well, I will call your father to-," But before the nurse can finish talking, George interrupts her in a flash. All he needed to hear was the one dreaded word to know he needed to interrupt.

"Don't call my dad, actually. He is uh...He's at the grocery store right now and I can easily walk home. Thanks though!" George says as he hastily walks out of the office doors. He struggled to come up with that lie.

But even if the nurse knew he was lying, she didn't bring it up.

_______

George sprints away from the school, sweating from the stress of having to go back home. He'd rather go anywhere but his house. His father is probably awake by now, ready and waiting for the time George gets home. He's ready to pounce, and George isn't ready to be the prey. Not yet. Not ever. He will never be ready to face his father.

At least, that's what he thinks right now.

Although he isn't ready to face his inevitable doom, he has to be. Where else does he have to go besides his home? 

As George slowly approaches to his one-story house, he notices a slim figure standing on his door. The figure appears to be a slim woman with beautiful brunette locks. The sun glistens on her angelic skin. There appears to be freckles dusted along her rosy cheeks. As George's eyes widen with realization, he stops dead in his tracks.

It can't be...she can't be here. Am I Hallucinating?

"Callie?"

(900 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> QUICK A/N YOU CAN FIND MY STORY ON WATTPAD AS WELL I WILL POST MORE OFTEN THERE:)))


	3. I'd bleed myself dry

(TW su!cidal thoughts, abuse, swearing, attempted OD)

"Callie?" the brunette questions in a faint voice. This can't be real. it's got to be a dream. His sister? Back home? He missed her so much that his hands start to shake from the overwhelming feeling of happiness.

"I missed you George," Callie states in a loving tone. Everything about the angelic woman was perfect. The way her beautiful brunette locks fell down below her shoulders, the way her gorgeous ocean eyes could melt you with one glance, the way she stood confidently over everyone, yet not in a cocky way. Not how Dream stands. She stands tall, yet you could take one glance at her and fall in love. She was the definition of perfection; George didn't understand how she did it. All he knows is, he missed her. He missed his sister. He missed his yellow. the next thing he knows, he is racing, striding towards the woman he loved more than he loved himself.

"I missed you too, sis," George beamed, embracing the slightly taller brunette in a quick hug. The hug only lasted a few seconds, but that didn't mean it meant less. Little did Callie know, George needed that hug more than anyone in the world. Especially today.

"What the hell happened George? Was it...dad?" Callie interrogates George, noticing the bruises all over George's small structure.

"heh actually it wasn't dad for once. It was some jerks at school that always shit on me when I'm down. I've learned to live with it, though," he laughs nervously, as if he can hide how much pain he's in from his own sister. Although she's been gone for awhile, she still knows her own brother.

"Names. Now. I'll make them learn a fucking lesson for messing with my brother. Do they know about what's going on at home? Do they know about your...thoughts?

Ever since the shorter brunette was left alone with his alcoholic father, he has never been mentally stable, considering the immense pain he was put through. Not only by his father, but by himself. He was never fully comfortable in his own skin. He has always struggled with his weight, and sometimes he still has thoughts of hurting himself, to the point where it all comes to a stop. To be honest, he never has stopped thinking that way. The way everyone around him makes him feel small. They surround him, drown him with the harsh words that come out of their selfish mouths. They don't know George's background because he doesn't feel safe telling anyone. All it will lead to is more problems, and that is the absolute lat thing the brunette needs. All he needs is love, and no one can provide that. Well, almost no one.

"George?"

He didn't notice the tears flowing down his cheeks until his sister snapped him out of the inescapable prison which is his thoughts. He was always an over thinker, but it got much worse when his sister, the key to the lock which controls his thoughts, left with his mother. He can't blame the mother leaving with his sister though. Callie deserved a better life than George.

At least, that's what George thinks.

"Huh? Oh it's really no big deal Callie. I'm used to it by now," George shrugs off the question like it was nothing. Callie wasn't going to let it go. She was quite the persistent one. That was, and still is, one of the things he loved most about his sister.

"George."

"Fine, fine. Uh their names are, well, their nicknames are Dream and Sapnap. That's what most people call them because no one dares disobey the kings," George says mockingly, which gets a giggle from his sister. He missed her laugh. The only way to describe it would be the laugh that is funnier than the joke.

"Do you know possibly where they...live?" Callie states in a half joking tone(I mean, if George did have the address, what's the point in keeping it a secret, right?).

George bursts out laughing at this little remark, which causes more laughter from Callie, which ultimately leads to them both on the ground, crying at that stupid remark and each other. God...George hasn't laughed like that, or even smiled like that, in a long time. He missed it.

"So- *wheeze* Do you- *wheeze* wanna come inside? *wheeze*," George laughed. He couldn't even make it through a whole sentence.

That's when Dream sprinted over to George and passionately kissed the brunette on the lips.

KIDDING KIDDING HAHAHA YOU GUYS WISH!

"Is..is the one who shall not be named inside?"

George peers through the window to see if his father was still lounging on the leather sofa. To no one's surprise, he still was.

"Unfortunately, yeah," George sighs. God. His father still manages to ruin everything George has left while being asleep.

"We can always just sneak past him," The shorter brunette suggests, but there is still a hint of worry in Callie's sparkling eyes, seeing as the last time she encountered her wretched dad was when he was trying to hit her with his empty beer bottle.

"If you don't feel comfortable Callie, we can always go to the library"

"No no, it's okay. We just have to be quiet"

"Okay, I'll open the door, you walk silently upstairs first, and then ill shut the door and come behind you. We lock the bedroom door, and just pray he doesn't bring a baseball bat or some shit. I wouldn't doubt that he'd bring one upstairs considering he's a psycho."

Callie nods in agreement. This is scary for Callie, considering she hasn't seen her father since she was 10 years old, but it was even more scary for George. If his father did ANYTHING to hurt Callie, there is no way in fucking hell he'd survive. He can't live without Callie. The only reason George still is alive is because the thought of Callie coming back to save George never escaped his endless thoughts. Now, a shed of light is peeping in the dark cave of thoughts, and the thought of his father shutting out that light...he almost threw up at the sickening thought.

George nervously steps up to the mahogany door, waiting for the moment his monstrous father will strike. He takes a deep breath and reaches for the silver door handle. He slowly turns and opens the door, praying the quiet creeks won't wake his father up. The father lays on the couch, motionless, clearly not hearing the door.

At least, that's what they thought.

Callie takes one step into the house, but before she can make another move, their father's swollen eyes quickly widen to see his beautiful daughter standing before him once again. He is still enraged, though, seeing as she abandoned him at such a young age and left him with a disappointment.

Well, a disappointment to him.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE SILLY GIRL?"

Callie bolts towards the stairs, hoping she'd be quicker than her hung over father. Alas, she wasn't quick enough before her father yanked her wrist so that she was facing him. George stood in complete shock, worried that if he interfered, Callie AND himself would both die at the hands of their furious joke of a parent.

"Where do you think your going?" He shouts with a devilish smirk. At this point, all three of them that stood in the Davidson household knew Callie wasn't leaving without a few bruises.

Although, the siblings never would have thought their father would take it as far as he did.

George stood in horror, watching as the tall man beat his daughter. As tears filled George's chocolate eyes, he recognized the screams coming from his pained sister. 

George was reliving his nightmare, except it wasn't a figment of his imagination.

It was real.

He hoped that the outcome would be different from the times he found his sister through the thick green leaves, prayed his sister wouldn't have to endure the pain for much longer.

The outcome was the same.

Callie was dead.

____________

Tears rushed down George's red cheeks like a waterfall as anger filled his chest. His sister played motionless in his arms, blood staining everywhere he looked. His father had already left the house by the time George could even react. All the emotions George had bottled up the past 7 years of his life suddenly came rushing out of his mouth. He screamed until his throat became sore, sobbed until his eyes became dry. His sister was lying dead, and the blood was on his hands. Literally.

"WHY COULDN'T I STOP HIM? WHY WAS I BEING SUCH A BITCH? IM SO STUPID WHY COULDN'T I JUST BE A MAN FOR ONCE IN MY GODDAMN LIFE AND STEP UP TO MY FATHER? MAYBE CALLIE WOULDN'T BE FUCKING DEAD AND ID BE THE ONE LYING ON THE FLOOR!"

"Maybe that would be better for the world. Maybe it would be best if I died. Maybe Callie would STILL BE HERE!" George screamed in pain(A/N ignore the fact that everyone could probably hear George just pretend like everyone was like doing something). He would have died for Callie. Now his only reason for living was gone, for good.

George suddenly remembered the bottle of Hydrocodone that was hidden in the bathroom behind a vase of flowers. George got them in case he ever needed to take them(ignore the fact this isn't possible)in a situation like this. 

He raced to the flower vase in the bathroom, praying his father didn't take the pills with him out the door after the incident.

The pills were still there.

The brunette, still crying at the loss of his happiness, snatched the bottle and quickly sat next to his lifeless sister. He grabbed around 10 pills and shoved them into his mouth. As everything began to fade from George's vision, he began to whisper lyrics to his sister and himself. 

For you I'd bleed myself dry

For you I'd bleed myself dry

That's when everything suddenly went black.

(1704 words)


	4. you're my home

(slight TW mention of death)

Clay isn't as much as a dumb jerk as he seems; He may not show it, but he does care a lot about the things or people he is passionate about.

He just isn't passionate about anything.

The golden boy hurts people in retaliation from when he was a young boy who was as shy as could be during the pre-puberty stages of his life. Clay always got bullied for the tiniest things, like his clothes, his looks, even his name. No girls would chase after him in elementary school, partly because they were in elementary school, but mostly because they just didn't find him interesting. Clay wasn't interesting.

At least, that's what most people thought.

Nick, also known as Sapnap, was one of the first and only kind people to talk to Clay. He had skin as white as snow and hazelnut colored hair. One specific thing Clay remembers, for some odd reason, he always came to school with a new bruise each day. He still does come to the wretched high school with new black and blue stains on his snow-like skin. He always worries that Sapnap might deal with what that slim figure George has to deal with, except at home.

Even if Clay knows that it's the case, he doesn't mention his theories to Nick.

Clay has also struggled a lot when it comes to his living situation. His father passed away when he was really young, and his mother has to work two full time jobs just to keep her three kids fed. They off and on live in their Subaru because they can't afford a small apartment. Nick and Clay may not have to deal with the same things, but they still understand each other. In many ways, Dream and Sapnap aren't all that different from the kid they hurt constantly.

They just won't listen.

Maybe if they listened, or just saw the hurt in George's chocolatey eyes, they would act a different way towards the pain-filled classmate.

But alas, what's the point in listening to an irrelevant story?

Who cares about a kid's background?

Clay didn't until he saw that very same hurt in the short brunette's eyes as he lied on the floor, next to a motionless, lifeless body. 

He was riding on his sky blue bicycle, towards his small apartment building, which happened to be around the corner from the half dead kid's house, which is when he saw a horrific sight, George, lying motionless on the ground next to two items, which forever scarred the taller blonde and tore him apart from the inside. He never knew he would care about this kind of stuff, let alone having to see it in the flesh. A small tube half filled with small, circular pills, presuming the other half was already digested by the boy, George in the middle, with a woman lying next to him, eyes wide open, staring into an abyss of nothing. Clay knew what dead bodies looked like from all of the dramatic shows he watched at Nick's house. There was no saving the lifeless, brunette.

But there was saving George.

The question is...

Does Clay save the boy he has hurt from, what seemed to be, inevitable death?

The answer is simple.

Of course he does, he may be a dick but he isn't gonna sit there and watch death knock upon George's door.

Seeing as Clay didn't know how much time George has been knocked out for, he needs to prepare for the worst an hope for the best. That's what he has always done, hope for something that is unimaginable, impossible.

Things change, though.

Not everything is as hopeless as it seems.

__________

George is inside of his own thoughts again. He can't seem to escape the prison of sorrow, he never has been able to. Sometimes, things stay the same forever.

This is one of those times.

George is surrounded by the all too familiar scent of blooming petals and the sight of emerald evergreens, towering above his small figure. As George tries to speak his peace, though, he doesn't hear the violent screams that once lived beyond the treacherous forest. He hears a faint, familiar voice coming from behind him. He swiftly turns around to see his sister standing before him once again, smiling, although her eyes are filled with unimaginable sorrow. Her sad blue eyes remind him of his mother, staring silently, eyes filled with regret, as she watched the love of her life tear their family apart. Her eyes full of hurt knowing she can't protect her own children, let alone herself. George has never blamed his mother for taking off with Callie.

He just wishes that he was taken too. Maybe then he wouldn't be staring at his dead sister.

"George, it's okay. Let me go," Callie whispers to George, who seems to be getting hit with a tidal wave of emotions.

"How am I supposed to just let you go, Callie? You were everything to me. You still are, and always will be, my everything," George mutters as his head starts to spin. he can't take this. How is he supposed to live without his sister, his best friend, his everything. She was his reason to live.

What's the point in living if you don't have a reason to?

"George, you can live without me. You can move on. You just have to find your motivation again. You have to find your person, your home."

"You are my home," George screams before falling onto his knees, begging to be taken away from the place that has caused him the most pain. He wants to live with Callie, maybe build a little cottage in the woods. That would be nice. It would be easy.

Nothing ever comes easy to George.

"You have to wake up George. You have to live. You are perfect George. Once someone sees that, you can finally find another reason. You can finally find your home,"

"Wake up George,"

"WAKE UP!"

___________

George bolts up to see himself surrounded by people in white trench coats, looking upon the poor soul. They can tell he has been through a lot just by peering into his almost numb, yet still apologetic eyes. 

"How- Why- How did I get here?" George questions, curiosity and frustration swirl in his head.

"A young man named Clay brought you to the hospital after finding you on the floor of your house," An older man states.

"CLAY?"

(1112 words)


	5. unlikely bonds

(TW mention of death, light swearing)

"CLAY?"

"I believe that was his-"

"May I speak to him?" George questioned with curiosity striking his body. Why did the one person who hated him, save him from his imminent death? Why did golden boy save the outsider? It didn't make sense.

Everyone is more complicated than they seem.

The taller man strode across his hospital room to search for the mystery man who seemed to have known the boy in jeopardy. As George searched to empty room for any sign of, well, nothing, all he saw was quite a normal hospital room. The walls were light gray, similar to the color of elephants, while his uncomfortable bed he laid in was white as snow, with a thin blanket at George's feet. He noticed a television hanging in the corner of the confined room and decided to turn on the television to find the reporter speaking about the brunette while discussing the topic with none other than golden boy.

"How did you wind up finding that poor soul Mr...?" The reporter asks while staring into the camera, George feeling as if she's looking into his soul.

"Just call me Clay," Dream says with a smile that George knows all too well to be fake. "I was riding on my bike, heading home from school, and then I was looking at a particular brick house that I thought looked nice, considering I live in a uh- a small apartment, yeah. Then I noticed a slim figure laying on the floor of the house, so I decided to make sure he was okay. As it turns out, he clearly uh..wasn't," Dream replies with a nervous laughter. Why did he stutter when talking about where he lived? George knows secrets all too well. He knows how to keep a secret.

Clay has a secret.

Maybe golden boy wasn't so golden after all.

__________

As George turned the television off to try and finally rest after his exhausting, nerve-racking day, he notices a tall, yet lean figure standing near the door, waiting for George to give permission for him to come in. He could recognize those golden locks anywhere.

"Clay-," George is about to interrogate the blond, but before he gets the chance, golden boy interrupts.

"Who was the woman that was laying next to you?"

"It was uh...she was my...," George tried to think of a lie, but to no success. What's the point in lying anyway? What is Dream going to do? Ressurect her from the dead?

"She was my sister," George replies, which causes a tense silence between the two high schoolers.

"Did you...," George knows EXACTLY what Dream is implying, and he hates that the blond even thought George could murder his own sister.

"I could NEVER murder my sister, I couldn't even murder a fly and you expect me to try and kill my own sister?" this reply receives a chuckle from the man standing tall before the bed stricken boy.

"Well, it was worth asking cause you know, you'd go to jail for that shit," Clay replies in a playful tone, which George is not used to.

He likes this playful tone much better than his other tones.

"Well, I thought that was obvious," George smirks at the taller golden boy. Him? And golden boy? Getting along? 

Incredible is an understatement.

"You don't have to answer this question, because obviously I have fucked you up in the past..."

"Oh, I couldn't tell from the bruises you left on me,' George sarcastically responds, leaving a smirk on both faces in the gloomy room.

"I left bruises on you?" Dream playfully asked, causing George to roll his eyes at the stupid joke. Yet, both boys started to giggle at the light-hearted banter passing in the air.

You know, maybe golden boy wasn't so bad after all.

"Can you tell me why you were laying next to- to uh...," Dream stutters, failing to have the courage to ask a simple question.

"The bottle of pills? Yeah I have to take one every day, prescribed by a doctor from a while back," George lied. Why was he lying?

He didn't want anyone to feel bad for him. Even after everything he has been through, he still finds himself insecure, patiently waiting for the day he gets to be reunited with his sister.

He shouldn't feel that way.

No one deserves to feel that way.

Even if Clay could tell the brunette was lying, he didn't push it any further, knowing the hurricane that would tear through George's flesh if he pushed. He knew what it felt like.

In fact, Dream probably was the one person who could understand the pain swirling through George's head on loop.

As the inevitable silence returned from it's slumber, George had many thoughts filling his empty mind. 

Why would Dream save me, of all people? He already hates me, so what was the point in saving my sad life anyway?

"Dream, can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead,"

"Why did you decide to save me?"

Dream looked at the boy with confusion, shock clearly hidden upon his emerald eyes. He was shocked George didn't know the simple answer to that question already.

"Just because I beat you up, George, that doesn't mean I'd let you die. At least, not by your own hands."

Silence, once again, woke from its slumber, and tore the two boys apart. George wasn't expecting that answer. It seemed like a simple enough answer, yet George couldn't get his words out of his head.

That doesn't mean I'd let you die. At least, not by your own hands.

Such a simple phrase, with a much more complex meaning. 

Dream would do that for anyone thought, I'm not special. Just another guy in Clay's eyes.

Right?

(1014 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the heavy dialogue :(


	6. i miss you

(slight TW mention of panic attack)

A couple of days after the visit to the hospital, with bruises still upon his pasty skin, George was finally allowed to leave that awful healing prison and go home. 

Home.

There was no way in hell George would, or could, go home. Not after everything that went down just a dew days prior. Again, people would find him more insane if he went back to that wretched brick house that is haunted with the ghosts of that night.

Clay offered for George to stay with him, which was odd, considering just the other day he left George to deal with the scars he had caused. Although it was odd, he didn't refuse the offer. He needs a place to stay, after all. Even if he did want to go back to the haunted house which he used to call his home, construction workers, along with regular civilians and emergency workers, were tidying up the wrecked home that was filled with dangerous spirits of the past events.

The trip to Dream's small apartment was filled with silence, yet the silence was very telling of the situation that has just gone down. it wasn't uncomfortable, per say, just tense. As they were striding along the sidewalk, well, George tried to keep up with his aching body, a familiar face popped into their line of vision.

Oh no.

"Clay? Why are you walking with...with him," Nick sneered while approaching the two boys. He somehow hasn't heard of the news about George, which the blond did not know, as it caused a shocked, almost hurt expression among the taller's face. 

"Do you even know what happened to him, Sapnap? He has been through hell and back, lay off," Dream defended George for the first time in, well, ever. Finally, someone was protecting George from all of the heat from Nick's inner dragon. He could finally let his tense shoulders drop slightly, but not completely in case Clay suddenly changed his mind about the boy.

"What possibly could have happened, did he fall off his bike or something?" Sapnap giggled at his own joke before getting a phone shoved in his face. 

"Why are you showing-," Sapnap finally realized what situation had just happened as he looked upon the screen. Horror struck his hazel eyes as he looked at the slightly shorter brunette, who looked as if he just witnessed a murder.

It's because he actually did, in fact, witness a murder.

"Holy shit, I'm so sorry I didn't know, I wouldn't have said anything if I knew oh my god I'm so stupid holy shit," Nick muttered, clearly upset at himself, seeing as he practically just made fun of someone who literally has been through hell.

George nodded at the slightly taller hazel-haired boy. He knew he wasn't trying to be rude, well, he was until he learnt about the heavy load of information about the poor boy. George's eyes widen as he realized what had just happened as he rethought the past events. His father had killed his happiness, literally and figuratively, in front of him. And he managed to get away, because George was too scared to face his dad, but more importantly, he was too much of a coward to face his inner demons. He couldn't escape his thoughts before, he couldn't at that moment, even now George is still struggling with his emotions. 

Even though the boy literally has every emotion swirling in his thought-filled brain, he still feels...

numb.

George didn't even realize tears were flowing down his tomato-like cheeks until Clay and Nick turned around to check that the boy was still following them. As it turns out, the brunette was curled into a ball on the hard concrete, tears sliding down his cheeks effortlessly, as he rocked back in fourth muttering the same few words over and over again.

"I miss you."

Dream quicky moved towards the boy on the ground, kneeling to attempt something he never thought he would, especially with the boy in danger. He tried to care.

"Hey, hey it's okay. I'm here, okay? Just breathe with me. 1...2...3... inhale, okay good. 1..2..3.. exhale, okay good. Let's keep repeating that okay? Just breathe, George," Dream calmly spoke, clearly having experience in the panic attack department. As George's breathing somewhat became more even, the boy was shocked how golden boy knew how to calm someone from that kind of state. Maybe Dream had experienced it before himself.

No. No way golden boy has had a panic attack.

As George gazed upon golden boy's emerald eyes, he noticed something hidden underneath that only someone as hurt as George could notice. he noticed the hint of struggle, the hint of pain masked by his, at first glance, true smile. He noticed the pain because he sees himself when looking into those forest-like eyes.

Maybe they weren't so different after all.

Even though George noticed the the happiness that was glazed over the hurt, he didn't mention it to Dream. That would only cause pain on both sides of conversation. And everyone knows George needs a break from pain, physically and mentally.

"I miss her, Clay." George faintly whispered, almost as if he was talking to his inner thoughts.

"Of course you would miss her. She was your sister,"

"She wasn't just my sister."

Confusion took over dream's face, eyebrows furrowed, peering into George's sad, puppy-like eyes.

"She was my everything."

(977 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DEALT WITH THE ALABAMA JOKES ON WATTPAD DO NOT MAKE JOKES ABOUT ALABAMA ON THIS CHAPTER /srs


	7. the simple things

"She was my everything."

Those same few words play on repeat through Clay's wandering mind. Now he knows, even understands, why George decided to take those pills. He knew George was lying when he said he fainted, because it was painfully obvious from the look of discomfort on the brunette's face when he asked about the bottle of the mysteriously dangerous consumptions. His sister was his only motivation to not just survive, but to live. How was George ever going to survive without a reason, without his one reason?

No one knew this at the time, but there will be a reason George will be trying to live.

And no one, will ever expect it.

_________

As they approach the small, yet intriguing apartment complex, Dream goes up to the locked door and presses the button that is located next to the number 9. A young girl's voice answers through the robotic machine.

"Hello?"

"Drista, it's Dream. I'm bringing someone to stay with us for the night since he doesn't really have much of a house anymore. Let us in and I can explain the rest to everyone, okay?" Dream explains quickly, as if he is in urgent need of shelter. George giggles with a bubbly tone as he notices the name of the young girl. Drista. Quite silly if her parents named her that to be completely honest.

"Drista? Is that her actual name?" George questions, a curious smile lurking on his face.

"No, it's a code name we have had for her since we were both pretty young. That's why I go by Dream most of the time at school with people I'm not very comfortable with. Drista stands for Dream's sister,"

"That was blatantly obvious, Clay," George sarcastically responds, receiving an eye roll from the tall blond.

"You are such an idiot. You're lucky I still am letting you stay for the night to be honest," Both boys giggle at the stupid banter flowing effortlessly in the air. They got along quite nicely for people who had despised each other just days ago. As the two boys are constantly being sarcastic towards one another, a strange noise comes from the machine, informing them that the doors were unlocked. Dream opens the door and holds it open for George.

"After you, madam," Dream mockingly says, which receives another eye roll from the brunette.

"You are such a dumb idiot oh my god," George replies annoyed, yet a small smile still lurks on his Snow White-like skin. George doesn't think he's smiled this much, disregarding all of the moments with his sister.

George's smile quickly fades as memories of his sister come flooding back into his mind, tearing at his still aching heart. His sister was dead because of him. George still manages to pin the blame of the death on himself, because everything that goes wrong in the sorrow-filled life of George is apparently his fault. It isn't though.

He hates that he thinks like that.

Dream notices the shorter of the two freeze in his tracks, appearing to be deep in thought, as if he was studying for a test. His eyebrows are furrowed in aggravation, yet his eyes are still filled with that same pain the blond has seen in himself. God.

It was like looking in a mirror.

"Are you okay George?" The question quickly makes George snap out of his trance, heart still beating quicker than before. His heart still aches, still yearns for his sister to come back. The fact that George knows that she won't come back this time?

Devastating is an understatement.

"y-yeah I-I'm fine," George stutters, quickly looking away from the boy as his cheeks grew warmer. He doesn't understand why he was embarrassed. Dream has already seen him in one of his worst states, why can't he see him overthink? Strange how George's mind works. All the brunette knows is, he is not going to overthink whatever that was.

Even if Dream notices the shorter is flustered, he doesn't mention it.

(slight tw for anyone who struggles food wise)

As they slowly climb the stairs, George's stomach growls, begging for something, anything to enter his weak system. He doesn't even remember the last time he ate a full meal. He doesn't even remember the last time he ate. Even though the last thing he wanted to do was eat, he knew his sister would want him to eat. Also, Dream heard the growl and had already gotten the boy an apple, and he didn't want to appear rude.

George took a bite out of the ruby colored apple, and slowly chewed on the tart fruit, taking in the immense flavor as he finally ate something. George was almost proud of himself for finally eating in what seemed like days, yet disappointment also struck his heart for the same reason. Why couldn't he be like everyone else? Why couldn't he be normal?

"Why am I so messed up?" The brunette mutters, voice barely above a whisper. Dream took notice of the statement as he peered at his half-eaten apple. Dream noticed his head down, as he searched for an answer to the question, hoping it would be dusted long the tiled floors. Dream noticed the small things.

It was a blessing and a curse.

Although Clay heard the pain-filled words that were uttered by the boy he used to loathe, he acted as if he didn't, because he knows what it feels like to constantly be questioned. He didn't want to put more pressure onto his shoulders.

After the almost calming silence, they finally made to room number nine. A girl looking to be about eleven years old greeted them at the entrance. She waved at Clay, then swiftly turned her head to the brunette and smiled fondly, welcoming him to the place she calls home. As George walked into the small apartment, he looked around at the elegant paintings that surrounded him on the sky blue walls. He strutted to the window and looked over the suburban life. It was an incredible view as he gazed over the garden that almost hid beneath the small balcony. George turned around, admiration filling his auburn eyes. George has always wanted to live this life. A small apartment with an incredible view, paintings that were to catch everyones eyes. It was a simple life. George has always wanted a simple life.

Sometimes, though, we don't get what we want.

"This place is insanely beautiful," George muttered with admiration soaring through his eyes and through the air. To Dream, this wasn't anything special. It was on the smaller side when it came to apartment rooms, and it just felt plain and simple. Simple isn't Dream's thing, which is where the boys lack in commonalities.

"It's quite plain and simple. I don't understand how you are so fond of the place already when you have barely stepped three feet into the room," Dream remarks, confusion and satisfaction lurking on his freckle-dusted face.

"Sometimes you have to admire the simple things before they are gone forever."

That quote will stick with Clay for the rest of his life, wishing he would have listened to George for once in his life. In the future, he will always hold regret in his heart for not taking the advice from the shorter brunette. Maybe if he had listened things would be different.

Maybe they would still be here. 

(1313 words)


	8. not just a nightmare

(TW swearing, yelling)

As night fell upon the neighborhood the two boys called home, air began to seep through the open windows of Dream's simple, yet elegant apartment. Clay had already informed George that his mother would be working a night shift at a coffee shop, Drista was already fast asleep since it was late considering she was eleven years old, and his older sister was staying at her girlfriend's house( A/N yes I made dream's sister a lesbian what about it). This meant the blond and brunette were left alone which left a soothing silence in the cool air.

As they sat next to each other, watching what George presumed to be the news, the brunette was not paying attention as he stared at the sky that was filled with stars, leaving a comfortable feeling sink in his chest. George was always more comfortable in smaller spaces with less people. He was not a people person, considering the only people he has known his life has hurt him. Well, besides his sister, but she was gone now, which left a permanent dent in George's heart. The stars shined above the boy as a quick spark flew across the deep navy sky. A shooting star, George presumed. He might as well make a wish, since he doesn't have much hope left in his barely-surviving body.

I wish that everything will be okay.

George closed his eyes, a deep, yet quiet sigh coming from his throat. Clay looked over at the boy, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He figured the sigh was nothing, but you never know with the brunette, so he decided it was the best to check if he was okay. He tapped the boy's shoulder gently, but before he can speak, he hears a quiet snore come out of the boy's mouth.

"Of course he's asleep," Dream mutters quietly through his breath, slightly shaky from the chilling air coming through the window. 

Should I leave him here to sleep or take him to my bed?

Dream decided to let the boy sleep in comfort, so he picks the surprisingly light boy up and carries him over to his full size bed. He laid the boy gently across the comfortable mattress, resting his head on his two pillows. George turned to get comfortable, sleep still filling his body. Dream looks in awe at the boy, finally seeing some sort of comfort return on his face. He hadn't ever seen his face so...content, relaxed even. A small smile formed on his face as he quietly shut the door and passed out on the couch.

____________

George woke up, his eyes slowly adjusting to the yellow rays shining down effortlessly on his skin. He didn't recognize where he was at first, considering he was outside, yet not in the forest he recognized. There were barely any trees in sight, instead an office building stood tall in front of the boy. He stood up on the firm concrete, staring at the building, something inside of him urging the boy to go inside of the unrecognizable construction. He suddenly felt his legs move towards the building, a feeling he doesn't recognize building up in his chest, almost burning his soul. As he opened the glass doors, the space was vacant, silence filling the air. He saw a set of stairs leading up to the very top floor of the office building. The stairs seemed to spiral up to the sky, the building being at least 15 stories tall. He groaned as he climbed the spiral staircase, the mysterious feeling growing inside of him like flames that are being fueled by gasoline. He finally reached the top layer, a sense of exhaustion filling his lungs. He walked over to the last room, hearing a woman's voice he didn't quite recognize. He peered at the woman. The woman had skin that was quite tan and hazelnut-colored eyes. She wore a light grey sweater, black leggings, and black flats. She appeared to be on the phone talking to another woman. As the woman stood up, her face looking towards the door, George finally recognized the woman as her short blonde hair bounced as she walked. Fear struck in his eyes as recognition hit him like a truck.

His mom was now standing inches from his shaking body, eyebrows furrowed in what looked like rage. She suddenly hung up the phone, staring at George with a look that pierced right through his heart. She only spoke four words during that dream that he will remember until the day he dies.

"You killed my daughter."

_____________

George woke up as sweat poured down his forehead, tears starting to fill his eyes as he sat up in a shock. He panted as he wiped the sweat that felt as if it was drowning him. Clay walked into the room, his smile quickly disappearing as he saw the agitation filling George's tear-filled eyes. he quickly sat down on the bed next to the boy, trying to calm him down, yet failure was all he seemed to get.

"Hey, hey it's okay, it's okay. Breathe. It was just a nightmare, calm down-" Dream uttered through increasingly shaky breaths, before he got interrupted by George, his voice shockingly sharp.

"IT WASN'T JUST A FUCKING NIGHTMARE CLAY. IT WAS MORE THAN THAT. IT WAS MY FUCKING MOTHER CALLING ME A MURDERER. MY OWN DAMN MOTHER. DO NOT TALK TO ME ABOUT FUCKING NIGHTMARES BECAUSE YOU DON'T REALIZE HOW MANY I HAVE DEALT WITH BEFORE. THAT WASN'T A FUCKING NIGHTMARE IT WAS FUCKING REAL. IT FELT FUCKING REAL DREAM. SO DO NOT GO TALKING TO ME TELLING ME TO CALM DOWN!" George screamed at Dream, leaving a shocked, yet hurt expression laying across the taller's face. Thankfully, Drista had already left for school and his mother wasn't home yet.

"I was just trying to help-"

"IM FUCKING TIRED OF EVERYONE JUST TRYING TO HELP. IM TIRED OF THE FUCKING PITY, YEAH, MY SISTER DIED, LIKE I DON'T ALREADY KNOW? LIKE I'M NOT HURTING? STOP FUCKING PITYING ME. THE BEST THING YOU CAN DO TO HELP IS JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!" George shouted as he stormed out of the bedroom and out of the apartment. Clay knew there was no point in chasing the boy because he knew the boy would come back on his own after he cooled down. The words loomed in Dream's mind, playing on repeat as he thought about the pain the boy must be going through.

IT WAS MY FUCKING MOTHER CALLING ME A MURDERER

_______________

George finally slowed his sprint as he exited the building, thankful that golden boy wasn't following after him. He quickly walked around a corner and sat against the concrete so no one would see him. After he was sure no one was around, he sobbed. Sobbed until his throat went sore and his eyes went dry. His emotions he had been bottling up for weeks on end finally spilling out, his heart increasing as he held his hand over his mouth, muffling his screams of agony. As his crying started to settle and his breaths starting to even out, he laid against the chilling concrete, his face awkward as he settled on the rough surface. His tears finally stopped drowning his cheeks and all that was left were a few odd sniffles as he finally found the strength to stand up. He started walking, wiping his puffy eyes to make sure there were no more tears that were going to suddenly spill out of his exhausted eyes. George didn't exactly know where he was going to, but it was going to be away from here. Away from the mess he had caused. He needed an escape. 

As his slow pace continued on, he found an open field next to a few houses. He quickly walked to the center of the grass and laid down, staring at the sky as the sun started to set. He smiled fondly at the colors painting the sky. His heart warmed knowing that he could finally be alone, could finally be around no pitying faces. A cool breeze filled the air, giving a sense of comfort to the brunette. He closed his eyes, settling down as exhaustion quickly drowned him, his eyelids closing without effort. He fell asleep, peace and comfort settling in their rightful spot in George's body. 

For the first time in a long time, George woke up in the exact spot he was in, not waking up to a nightmare. Instead, yellow rays hit him, causing his arm to fall over his half-open eyes. He stood up and stretched as he went to check the time on his phone. It read 9:30 a.m. He started to make his way towards the beginning of the field as a silver car he did not recognize slowly pull to a stop at the field. George's fight or flight nearly kicking in as the door opened, but then he recognized the beanie that was pulled over the mysterious boy's head, a few strands of black hair poking through. A small smile fell on George's face as he stood, facing his childhood friend.

"Quackity?"

(1585 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> longer chapter pog? :)


	9. home

"Quackity?" George asked as a smile flooded his face as he jogged over to the shorter boy. Quackity and George met in 3rd grade. George was sitting alone at lunch because even before high school, he didn't have many friends. At least, he didn't have friends that didn't use him. Alex noticed the young boy sitting alone, since he had just moved to that school, and sat next to him. At first, George found Alex strange. He NEVER took his navy blue beanie that was engraved with the letters 'L.A.P.D' off, which was odd considering they were in third grade where there was nothing to worry about besides simple math equations. Alex kept trying every day to talk to George, while the brunette stayed silent, scared he might scare the short boy away. One day, as if something struck George's throat, he decided to utter a simple question to Alex.

"Why do you keep trying to talk to me?" George whispered, yet not in a harsh tone. it was an almost confused tone, with a hint of happiness filling the brunette's body because someone was finally trying. Trying to be friends for a good reason. Not to get homework answers, not to tease him. He wanted to be genuine friends, and George could tell that through the happiness that flowed out of Alex's throat as he answered.

"Because even though you are quiet, I can tell you would make a good friend. I like good friends."

Ever since that day, Alex and George had spoken every single day. They sat together at lunch, trading the food their mothers had packed them in their lunch boxes. They sat on the bench or on the cold concrete during recess, commentating secretly the games the other children were playing. They were best friends. They were inseparable, like the two boys were meant to be friends. 

But one day, the fire nation attacked(SORRY I HAD TO MAKE THE REFERENCE JUST IGNORE THIS).

They were best friends up until 8th grade, right before high school. Alex had mentioned several times in the past that his family had wanted to move out of the state, but both of the boys had thought his parents would never go through with it, since they kept on threatening to move for years on end. Eventually, it wasn't an empty threat anymore, and Alex had to move with his parents multiple states away from George(A/N in this case George lives in the suburbs of any state you want to imagine in America). Their final day of meeting was like the definition of a sad smile. They hung out for a couple of hours that felt like minutes, dreading the sound of a car pulling up to Alex's house. When they heard the torturous sound of the wheels turning along the street, they turned towards each other, sadness filling their eyes, although they both tried to mask it with smiles. Tears filled both of their eyes as they embraced in a long hug. That was one of the first and only times George had ever cried.

His best friend had left him for good. He would never see him again.

At least, that's what he thought.

His childhood best friend now stood before him, a flood of emotions drowning his soul as he approached the shorter man.

"Gogy? Is that really you?" George rolled his eyes at the childhood nickname, a large smile still hanging on his face as he got pulled into a tight hug from someone he never thought he would see again. They quickly embraced, and George pulled away to look his best friend in the eyes, still wondering how he is in front of him.

"How the hell are you here Quackity?" Quackity is the nickname George had given him in 5th grade when he had found a stuffed duck in the other's bedroom.

"Well, my parents couldn't stand living in that awful state that I already forgot the name of, so we decided to move back here. My house is actually just, literally, around the corner. Now you tell me how you wound up sleeping in a damn field," Quackity explained as they both got into his silver Ford Fusion, revving up the engine to go to his house.

"It's more than a complicated story. So I can either tell you the depressing, upsetting, and long story or the short and simple story. Which would you prefer?" Quackity made a pfffft noise when hearing the half-joking question from the brunette. The two hadn't spoken in three years, of course Alex wanted to hear all about his complicated best friend's life. 

So, George told him everything. George hadn't told Quackity about his home life before because he was nervous that his story would scare him away. He didn't want his only true friend leaving him because of his stupid parental figures. He started with his physically and mentally draining father, words filled with hatred flowing out of his mouth easily. Tears stared filling his chocolate eyes as he started to mention his sister, barely being able to choke out the horrifying story of how his own father had brutally killed his sister. He spoke about the bullying that occurred at school, he spoke about his intrusive thoughts that flooded his mind almost every time someone spoke to him, he spoke about everything. 

Quackity stared at the brunette in astonishment, trying to process the flood of information that was just given to him. He stayed like that for a few minutes, which caused George to soon get filled with only the feeling of regret. His best friend literally just got back and he just spilled his heart out to him? How stupid could he be? 

I probably just scared my only friend away. How f-

George's thoughts were quickly interrupted as Alex pulled him into a long and thoughtful embrace as George buried his head into the shorter's neck. They were in quite the awkward position having to reach across the car and over the compartment in-between them, but it didn't matter. That hug meant more to the both of them than anything that had happened before. They truly loved each other like brothers. And hearing George's devastating story?

It tore Quackity's heart apart.

"I'm sorry," Alex muttered through slow-falling tears, his heart still being shredded by the worlds playing on repeat in his head. George had lost everything, and the fact that he couldn't be there for him every step of the way?

His heart was getting more shattered every moment that passed.

"it- It isn't- it isn't you- your fault, A-Alex," George choked out in-between sobs. His head was still buried in his best friend's neck, afraid that if he detached from the boy he would disappear, that it would just be another one of George's dreams. 

"I know. B-but no one, e-especially you, d-deserves to g-go through that p-pain," Quackity uttered through his own tears. Emotions overwhelmed them both; Both afraid that the other would vanish if they let go. So, they didn't let go. They spent a long time just sitting in the car, hugging until their limbs got tired, crying until their eyes went dry. Eventually the two reluctantly split apart to open the car doors. Quackity's new house wasn't anything extravagant. It was a two story house made of crimson bricks. There were a few bushes on the exterior of the house, nothing special. It was a simple house.

George already felt safe.

He finally felt at home.

The two boys entered the house, swiftly sneaking upstairs and into Quackity's bedroom. It was quite bare since the boy had not finished unpacking yet. He was always a procrastinator, unlike George. The walls were painted a simple sky blue and there was a singular window at the back of the medium-sized room. Boxes were scattered over the floor next to his twin sized bed. They sat down next to each other, enjoying the comfortable silence that loomed in the room. 

Quackity quickly got off the bed and ran downstairs for a reason George did not know of. The brunette shrugged as he laid upon the comfortable mattress, reaching for his phone inside of his pocket. He had 6 missed calls from Dream and 10 unopened text messages. Seemingly unbothered, he put his phone back into his pocket as Alex scurried into the room, a smile sitting across his slightly pale skin.

"My parents said you can stay however long you need. You can sleep on my bed for tonight and I can sleep on the floor. They'll get an air mattress set up for you tomorrow. It's like a sleepover but we get to decide how many days you stay over," Quackity beamed with an exciting tone. A smile spread across the brunette's face. He got to stay at his best friend's house. He got to stay at the place that felt like home.

"That sounds nice," George tried to calmly say, but the excitement was quite obvious from the tone that filled the room. 

As night struck, Quackity had already fallen asleep, exhausted from the move and George's rant(don't get him wrong though he was glad George opened up). George laid across the small bed, exhaustion hitting him like a truck. As his eyelids fluttered shut, a grin creeped onto his face. George knew he belonged there.

George was finally where he belonged.

He was home.

(1619 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> even longer chapter pog


	10. realizations

(TW implied pan!c attack, su!cidal thoughts)

George woke up for the second time in a row where he left off. Maybe it was the familiar comfort of his best friend's aura, or maybe it was the fact that George finally found where he belonged. It didn't matter what the reason was, all that mattered was that he was safe. A small smile creeped onto his face as relief flooded his body. His best friend was still passed out on the carpeted floor, so he checked his vibrating phone. He had nearly 20 missed calls now and over 50 missed messages. Dream was clearly worried, knowing George and his...tendencies. George opened his missed messages to find worry flooding his phone. 

where are you?

answer me 

I'm fucking worried George

George?

George please(yes I did just make a guys please reference).

George looked down at the phone, staring at the words in confusion. He didn't know Dream cared that much; he didn't even know he cared in general. Multiple feelings were swarming among his stomach, and he couldn't tell if they were feelings of joy or sadness. George was happy that someone finally cared, but on the other hand, he was regretting not answering the blond sooner, seeing as he has been worried George has been dead for over 24 hours. He simply answered two words as Quackity stirred awake, head turning to face the other on the comfortable mattress.

I'm fine.

George then shut off his phone with a quick click of a button and turned his head to the boy on the floor, eyes still filled with exhaustion.

"Morning sleepy head," George chuckled as he slid out of the comforter and onto the carpeted floor, reaching a hand out for the shorter to grab onto. Alex gladly took it and stood up, stretching so his limbs would begin to function.

"Morning Gogy, holy shit what time is it?" 

"It's 11:30 big q," George responds as a bubbly giggle escapes his lips. Alex looked at George with a shocked expression, not expecting nor hoping to wake up this late. 

"FUCK I had plans today but NOOOOO my stupid sleep schedule HATES ME!!!" The boy with the beanie exclaims in frustration, a sigh following. George shakes his head as a tiny grin creeps upon his face. 

"It's okay Alex. I need to get clothes-," George's eyes widen at the realization that popped into his mind. Fear fills his widening chocolate eyes, which causes the brunette to quickly sit back down onto the bed, head swirling with too many emotions to describe. There are only two emotions that are sticking out to George, if you even consider them emotions.

Anxiety. Regret.

Pain.

Tears start to swell as Quackity quickly walks across the room and kneels down in front of George, worry and confusion flooding his body and eyes. George doesn't notice as tears start to blur his vision.

"What What's wrong-," Alex soon gets stricken with a wave of realization, even more worry now filling, no, flooding his body. He quickly wraps his arms around the brunette, in hopes to comfort George. He can't have George in one of his depressive episodes today, not that he's shaming him for it, George can't control it. He really just wants his friend to be happy and it hurts seeing him like this. George's situation is something that barely anyone could recover from, if anyone could. He wants his best friend to be happy.

And he doesn't know if that will ever be possible.

It almost hurts him as much as it hurts George. He wants to do something, ANYTHING to help, but he can't. George is stuck in a prison of pain, and there isn't a possible way to escape. 

At least, there isn't a way to escape right now.

George's head finds it's way to Alex's neck as tears stream down his cheeks. Thoughts are overwhelming his mind and soul. He hasn't been in this state in a couple of days, and that was a long time for George. He didn't miss this state at all. He loathes this mental stress, he just wants his overthinking to stop. He wants his crying to stop. He wants his emotions to stop. He wants everything to stop.

He wants his life to stop.

Although George craves for an end, he couldn't do that to the people who cares about him. There may not be many people who care, but there are a few people who care for the brunette. Alex, Dream, they both care for George. George wants everything to stop, yet...

George isn't selfish.

And he never will be.

At least, that's what he thinks right now.

(843 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter, sorry!


	11. happier

Thoughts.

Thoughts can be very dangerous. One thought could lead to another and next thing you know, you're dead. Thoughts are like bombs. They can either be stopped, the fuse will dim, everything will be okay, right? But there's another use of a bomb.

You'll explode.

______________

He had to go back home. Well, his house, not his home. That was never George's true home. Home isn't a place or a house or a building or anything of the sorts, home is where you feel safe. Home can be a place or a person, home doesn't need to be the place where you grow up. George's home? It has been, and always will be, one specific person. Quackity.

But you can have multiple homes, right?

_______________

George's tears that were rolling down his rosy cheeks and onto the shirt of Alex finally started to settle down, now only faint sniffles could be heard in the bedroom. Thoughts aren't always easy to overcome. They trap you, they wait for you to come inside of their prison, and they trap you. They want you to never escape. George's thoughts always lock him inside of a cage; They don't want him to be free

Yet, somehow, his best friend has always managed to help him get out of his mind.

They sat in the room, a comfortable silence looming over them, excluding the quiet sniffles that popped up every once in a while. George was the first to pull away from their hug, his eyes puffy from the outburst of emotions he just had. He had to go back to...to the place...to where he didn't feel safe. That wasn't his home. It was a prison. 

He didn't want to go back to his personal prison.

Alas, we all have to do things we don't want to do.

The brunette finally got the strength to at least stand up, his hands were still a little shaky from the thoughts. Alex quickly put his hands on the other's shoulders, whispering calming words to George, who just closed his eyes and tried to breathe.

It will be okay.

Right. Everything will be okay. Everything is okay. 

I'm okay.

George tries to convince himself, although it isn't very compelling. As Quackity and George walk out of the front door of the new house, an internal war is going on in the brunette's mind, which distracts him from the horrifying fact that he has to go back. It was almost...calming. A distraction is a distraction to George, so it calmed his nerves.

Not for long, though.

The two boys turned a corner to face the monster, the ghost that haunted George. The house. Memories came rushing back to George as he started to feel himself slowly crumbling. George felt his knees give out as he fell to the concrete, tears refusing to flow. He already ran out of tears to cry. As much as he wanted his wall to break, as much as he wanted his emotional dam to crack, it couldn't. Instead, George sat on the concrete, not noticing the words filled with concern rushing out of Quackity's mouth, staring at his old house. No tears, no emotions, nothing. Just his eyes looking at the house. Even though to the average eye, nothing was showing in George's eyes. They looked almost...empty. To his best friend, though, a hint of horror hid in the shadows of the brunette's brown eyes. It hurt both of them.

They had to make a move at some point, though.

Although Quackity had never been to the other's house, he would NEVER let George step back into that house. That house was, and still is, traumatizing. So, George waited. Waited on the cool sidewalk, waited for Quackity to bring down a bag full of clothes. He waited. As he turned his head to look towards something else for a little bit instead of the room where it happened(ahahaha im so sorry for this reference), he saw a familiar figure appear, racing to the brunette with large strides.

"Dre-," Before he could finish his sentence, he was engulfed into an embrace from the one and only golden boy. He quickly returned the hug, melting at the sudden affection he was receiving from someone other than his best friend. As much as he loved Alex and his hugs, wanting to be cared for by more than one person was normal, realistic.

"I thought you were dead, I thought you were gone. You rushed out without letting me try to calm you down and I know you needed space so I gave you it, but I expected you to come back and then you never did and I was so worried-," Dream's words stung George's heart. It hurt knowing he just left the blond without a word, without an ounce of regret. He still didn't feel regret for leaving, but he did feel regret for leaving without a word. Leaving without coming back. Leaving without saying he would be okay.

"I'm okay though, right? I'm here. I'm okay," George whispered with a calming tone, arms still wrapped around the blond. Dream pulls away from the boy and offers a hand. George takes the offer and stands up as an easily recognizable voice pops up from behind.

"Who's this Gogy?" George sighs at the nickname and gives Alex the stare of death when he hears Dream chuckle, knowing he will forever be called 'Gogy' by both of the boys now.

"This is Clay. He's the one who was a bitch to me at school-," Before George can get to the pros of golden boy, Quackity, being the protective friend he is, goes up to the way taller blond, staring at him with eyes that could break your soul.

"WAIT Alex wait he is okay he apologized twenty thousand times already. He isn't a bitch anymore I promise," George exclaims, stepping in front of Quackity before he does something he regrets. Quackity may be short, but he does know how to throw a punch.

As they slide into conversation, a feeling that doesn't appear often settles into George's stomach. Comfort. He feels comfortable with the two guys next to him, he feels safe. Their dynamic, their personalities, the three mesh very well together. It's nice being comfortable.

___________

Warm colors paint the sky like it's a canvas, a slight breeze cooling the boys as they begin to part their ways. They have already discussed George's living situation and have decided that he will stay with Quackity unless he needs a change of pace. Silence loomed over the shorter boys as they begin turning a corner.

"I didn't think your terrorizer deserved a second chance, at first. I thought I was about to BOOM POW some bitch. But you know what? He's actually alright. You seem happier when you are with him, George. If you're happy, I'm happy," Alex broke the silence which left thoughts wandering George's mind.

I look happier? What? Whatever it's probably just some bullshit.

"I have always been good at spotting the right people for second chances," George replies as they enter their home. Home.

It's nice to have a home.

(1267 words)


	12. just a pawn

(TW panic attack, vomiting, attempted OD, light swearing)

The night blew by, sleep overcoming the two boys as they entered the bed room. The air mattress was not set up yet; Quackity's parents had gone out that night on a date night. George refused to take the bed again, so he slept on the floor. A nightmare was expected to arrive at the brunette's brain's doorstep, but it never came. All there was to see was the pitch black darkness from the back of his eyelids. As he fell asleep, the same thoughts played on repeat in his mind.

Do I really look happier with Dream?

Am I happier with Dream?

Am I happy?

As the thoughts seeped away as sleep consumed his soul, a slight shaking of the shoulder scared George awake. The bright yellow rays crept through Alex's window, forcing George's eyes to adjust. 

"What the fuck, dude?"

"GOGY SWORE???????? this is insane I JUST MADE THE GOGSTER SWEAR!!!!!!!!!!!" Quackity swung his arms around, running victory laps around his room as if he just won the lottery.

"Oh shut up idiot," George giggled as the boy with a beanie finally slowed down to a stop, catching his breath.

"So why did you wake me up at-," George stops midway through his sentence, peering at his phone to check the time. His eyes widen.

"ITS 8 AM? what the actual FUCK could we be doing at 8 am?" George questions with frustration, tempted to just go back to sleep. His chocolate eyes widen even more at the response.

"We are going to breakfast with Clay?"

_____________

Since Alex had already been dressed when he woke up sleeping beauty, George decided to take a quick shower to hopefully melt away the stress that was hiding in his stomach. He doesn't exactly know why his anxiety is starting to rise, but it is and there's nothing he can do about it. He sighs as he turns off the lukewarm shower and gets changed into a casual outfit: A sky blue hoodie embroided with the numbers 404 and some Adidas sweatpants. He combs his hair, as it had been as mess, quickly brushes his teeth and steps out of the bathroom. An unfamiliar feeling hid in the shadows of his stomach. He couldn't exactly pinpoint the feeling, but it made him nervous. It was like butterflies were floating in his stomach as he thought about going out to breakfast with Clay. It was like he had a crush on a girl, but it was a boy.

He had a crush on a boy.

He had a crush on Clay.

Although the brunette knew what the feeling was, he denied it. He vowed to keep denying it until the day he died. There was no way he had fallen for a boy, let alone the boy who used to bully him. He couldn't...he wouldn't.

How has he gotten into this situation?

There was only one thought in George's mind as he felt the feeling tug at his stomach, leaving his throat with a disgusting feeling.

I'm screwed.

_____________

(if you want the full effect listen to waves by dean lewis as you read the next part:))

Quackity and George walked into the cafe, fresh baked bread and coffee filling their noses. The cafe was quite cozy, a few abstract paintings covering the mahogany walls and a few small tables scattered around the room. In the back was the counter to pay and a few displays of the food were along the top. As they walked into the room, they were met with Clay standing next to an unfamiliar woman. They approached the small booth they were standing next to, assuming the girl was just a waitress making small talk. 

Boy were they in for a surprise.

Golden boy approached the brunette first, embracing him in a quick hug. The unfamiliar feeling he just managed to get rid of creeped back into his stomach. God, he was so touch starved.

"Hey guys! I have someone for you to meet," Clay spoke with a smile, reaching for the shy girl's hand. George tried to keep his composure.

"This is Kaliyah, my girlfriend," The blond beamed, leaving a pit in George's stomach. Of course Clay had a girlfriend, he was straight. He would never be with George anyways. He had just realized he had a crush on the blond, and he has a girlfriend. That isn't even the worst part.

He looks so happy with her.

George forces a small smile as Kaliyah and him shake hands. She was beautiful. Her hair was a chestnut color with streaks of navy spread over her long hair. A few freckles dusted her face and her smile was heavenly. Her voice was soft when she spoke, but her words left the booth dying of laughter. She was perfect.

She was perfect for Clay.

The brunette's emotions and thoughts flooded him, grasping at him to come into the prison permanently. He needed to go somewhere. Anywhere where Dream wasn't.

"Excuse me," George muttered through shaky breaths, but no one seemed to notice since they were still laughing at the beautiful woman's jokes that flowed effortlessly through her lips. He made his way to the bathroom and collapsed onto the floor. He sat against the wall, tears flooding his mocha eyes. Thoughts filled with self-hatred sailed through his mind. He would never be good enough for Clay; He'd never be good enough for anyone. He wasn't the brightest kid when it came to smarts, he would never be the life of the party, he would never be the class clown. He was average according to his thoughts. Less than average, actually. Tears continued to flow effortlessly out of his puffy eyes and down his rosy cheeks like waterfalls. His hands were shaking, and to prevent that he stuck his fingernails into his skin, wincing at the pain. It wasn't a healthy coping mechanism, yet it was better than nothing. The worst part?

His friends didn't even notice he was gone.

That hurt more than anything. His best friends were too distracted by a girl to realize their best friend was in the bathroom breaking down. That hurts more than Clay having a girlfriend, that hurts more than getting rejected without verbally communicating, that hurts more than anything. A hurricane of emotions were causing George to silently suffer as the two boys just enjoyed the presence of Kaliyah. At least they were happy, right? 

After about 15 minutes, George finally got the strength to stand on his two feet and splash water over his face that was filled with hurt. He looked in the mirror to see an unrecognizable face. Mocha eyes were now surrounded by red and they were puffier than usual, his face was flushed and dusted with pink, and tiny bits of blood dripped from the markings that were left by his fingernails. He was a wreck.

And his friends didn't even notice.

George stood, feeling sick to his stomach. He covered his hands with his light blue hoodie, not caring about the stains that will soon be on his favorite hoodie, and he left the bathroom. He went to the booth, but didn't sit back down. A concerned look was on Alex's face, clearly seeing the pain hidden in George's eyes. He knew his friend.

Clearly not enough, though.

"I'm going to head out. My stomach is upsetting me at the moment," George quickly told the three at the booth and walked away. Walked out the door, walked out to the sidewalk, and walked. Until he heard a voice he really did not want to hear.

"Hey, are you okay? Why are you leaving?" Dream questioned, trying to catch up to George. The brunette froze, yet didn't turn around. He couldn't bare to see golden boy's face, not right now.

"Like I said, my stomach hurts,"

"George, you and I both know that isn't the truth. What's wrong?" George turned around, an aggravated expression resting on his face. 

"My stomach hurts. Don't fucking push it," George said with a sharp tone and walked away, leaving a hurt expression resting on the blond's face, yet he didn't seem to care at the moment. His own damn friends didn't even realize he left. They didn't realize he was upset until he stepped out of the bathroom. What kind of friends do that? Maybe they didn't care as much as George thought, or at least, hoped they would. Maybe they don't care about him at all. George is just a pawn in their game of chess. Kaliyah was the queen, Alex and Dream were the kings. George was just a pawn.

It hurts not being as important to someone as you thought.

He walked into Alex's bedroom, the usual comforting feeling not settling into his stomach. Instead, the brunette's stomach hurt and his throat burned, a substance waiting for release. He rushed to the bathroom and quickly locked the doors, even though no one was home. He leaned over the toilet and he spat out vomit. His throat still burned, and a singular tear fell down his face. How could he be so stupid? Thinking someone cared about him? That was bullshit. George silently blames himself for letting his walls break down from the wrecking balls of Alex and Clay. It was his fault that he let himself think someone cared, it was his fault for gaining feelings, it was his fault for everything. Everything was his fault. 

He wanted to disappear.

George wanted to erase himself from existence; he wanted to pretend like he was never there. He wanted to go home to his sister. George just wanted an escape. George had an escape in the pocket of his old hoodie, actually. 

The pills that he used as his first attempt. 

George quickly sat up and washed his mouth out with water, waiting to gain more strength so he could walk. The pills were there as a back-up plan, in case things went south. 

I guess it was time to enact the back-up plan.

George searched his old hoodie pockets until he felt the familiar bottle appear in his touch. Memories rushed through his mind, but at this point, his mind was already made up. He grabbed the orange bottle of life threatening pills and raced to the bathroom. The brunette locked the door and poured out the other half of the bottle that was not taken the first attempt. He looked in the mirror at his dark brown hair and his mocha eyes, getting one last glance at his face. He got a small, plastic cup of water and set it down. He inhaled to calm his nerves, then exhaled. 

It was time.

George downed half of the pills with the first cup of water, got another cup, then downed the other half. Even if he regretted taking the pills, even if he wanted to live longer, it was too late. He slid down the bathroom wall and waited patiently for the effects to kick in, waited patiently to see his sister again. He would be happy again. This was it.

George's eyelids fluttered shut as his consciousness ended, signaling that George's story was almost over.

His king was in check, soon to be in checkmate. 

Life won.

It was finally over. The pain, the thoughts, everything was over. On to a new chapter, a new life.

That's what his final thoughts were.

Well, that was what he thought would be his final thoughts.

(1972 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LONG CHAPTER PLUS ANGST POGGGG


	13. a promise

(TW mention of death)

White, fluffy shapes cover the yellow rays in the sky as evergreens as tall as skyscrapers surround a short, brunette boy. The boy we all know and have come to love. He woke up in a daze, mocha eyes trying to adjust to the light that was being uncovered as the clouds swam across the blue sky. He recognized the awful trees that triggered some memories, but a laugh he did not recognize yet filled the air, causing confusion to strike George's bones. The laughter could only be described as an airy wheeze causing the brunette to smile. It was quite the contagious laugh and it made George happy. It made a few butterflies soar in his stomach as he searched through the dense trees for the person who was causing his stomach to erupt. The short brunette searched and searched, hearing the voice become closer and closer by the second. That's when he found the source of the happiness, two familiar faces sitting next to a camp site. They were holding hands, walking down the gravel path towards the lake, laughing like it was their last night of their lives. Kaliyah and Dream were as happy as ever, happier than Clay was any time he was with George. He was happy.

And distraught was an understatement when describing George's feelings.

George wanted to sob. Sob until his eyes went dry, sob until his throat went sore, sob until he could get over golden boy. But there were no more tears left to cry. He felt empty. Numb. He had so many emotions swirling around him, yet none were coming to him. He had no more tears left to cry, and it felt worse than letting his emotions out. He just saw the boy he liked, the boy he was scared to love, happier with a girl then he was with George. Yet, no emotions seemed to arrive. He just stood and stared at the happy couple, envy filling his mind. George wanted to be Kaliyah. George wanted to be the one to make Clay happy. George wanted to hold Clay's hand. George wanted everything that was out of his reach.

And all he could do was watch.

Watch his crush be happier with a girl.

Watch his world crash and burn.

He just watched until everything went black for a second time that night.

____________

George shot up to the familiar surroundings of a hospital room. The buzzing of the heart monitors filled his ears as chatter soon silenced realizing the brunette was awake. George was alive and relief filled the room, filled everyone's hearts.

Well, excluding George's.

George's eyes looked around the room, peering at the familiar faces that he once considered family. Alex abandoned him when he needed him most. Clay was happier with a girl than he was with George. The closest thing he had to a family was torn apart by a stupid girl and George couldn't keep his feelings under control. Now that George thinks about it, it was never Kaliyah's fault.

It was his own fault.

He let his feelings escalate until it was too late to fall back. He let himself get upset over a stupid boy, a boy who used to bully him at that. He let himself leave that cafe in sorrow. He let himself get the bottle of pills. He let himself take the death threats. He let himself give up. 

George didn't deserve the people who loved him. He didn't deserve anyone. He didn't deserve love. He deserved nothing. Well, according to his own thoughts that's correct.

It really isn't right though.

All the brunette ever does is show love and care towards everything he is passionate about. He tries and tries to make everyone happy, but at the end of the day, that isn't possible.

And that hurts more than George lets on.

As thoughts continued to flood George's already filled brain, Quackity quickly embraced George expecting that same love back, but he didn't get it. All he got was a minuscule shove and mocha eyes filled with many emotions. Pain, anger, sorrow. That's all that was shown from George, and Alex knew he messed up. He regretted staying at the table, he regretted agreeing to breakfast, he regretted moving back before freshman year, he regretted everything he had ever done that angered George.

But, regret wasn't good enough.

Both of the boys just looked at each other with eyes that told their stories, but neither were brave enough to utter the first words. Both were afraid to take a chance.

Golden boy sure wasn't the same.

"GEORGE??? Oh my god George are you okay? What the fuck happened? Why did you- why would you- again?" Dream's tone progressively got softer until his voice was barely above a whisper. He went in for a hug, but got rejected once again by the brunette. What had he done wrong?

Little did he know, he had done everything wrong.

All three of the boys looked at each other, tears brimming each of their eyes. George clearly did not want them in the bland room, and they obeyed. They simply walked out of the room with no hesitation, wishing to make the brunette just a bit happier.

That was the worst thing to do.

George wanted to test them. Wanted to test if they actually cared. He wanted to test and see if they would apologize. He wanted to see if his family could be repaired, piece by piece.

Clearly, that was not the case.

George wanted to cry for the second time in that hour. His tears had been blocked by his emotional walls, unfortunately. So all he could do was wait. Wait until he could escape the hospital room that reminded him of too many memories. Wait until he could leave his old friend's home. Wait until he could be free. He already knew where he wanted to go. 

The field.

The field where his friend came back, yet that wasn't relevant to the brunette anymore. George loved the feeling of the grass grazing his back and the sun slowly falling for the moon to climb. He longed to wake up in the morning as the yellow beams shone down on his body. He wanted that feeling of comfort back in his churning soul. Was that too much to ask?

So, he waited. He patiently sat on the uncomfortable hospital bed, wearing a white gown speckled with blue orbs. He stayed up until sun rise, the nurses constantly checking his pulses. His heart monitor made a beep noise at a steady pace, signaling George's heart was thriving.

But that was the last thing George felt.

His heart was being shattered little by little every time he heard another signal that he was alive. His heart yearning for his closest friends to come back, aching that he had nobody left. 

This was the most alone George has ever felt.

_____________

The sun crept through the singular window in the room, while George's eyes were still wide open. He had stayed up all night, his brain overrun with thoughts. A few moments later, an older man strutted into the room constantly looking at his notes. A small smile was formed on the man's tan face as he spoke a few simple words that made George beam.

"You're free to go," The doctor spoke with a sophisticated tone. George was finally free to leave this place, free to be himself without anyone tearing him apart again.

He was free.

George quickly changed into his sky blue hoodie(the blood stain had been washed away by one of the nurses)and his black sweats. He put his shoes on and raced out of the hospital doors, a smile that could be noticed from miles away hanging on his face. His eyes radiated pure joy as he jogged away. His pace started to pick up as he came into a closer proximity to the field. His jog became a run, his run became a sprint, and he was there. He felt at home laying in the beautiful greens and yellows of the grass. It was around 9 am, so the sun was still beaming from the sky, and there was a light breeze that passed through George's brown locks. 

That was the calm before the storm.

His smile quickly faded as he sat up to see his former best friend looking him in the soul, regret clear in his dark brown eyes. He swiftly stood up to face Alex, but fear was looming in his stomach. What if George was overreacting? What if that just made Quackity hate George? What if he caused his best friend to leave?

"I'm so, so sorry," Alex muttered, his head tilted downwards, too afraid to look in his best friend's eyes.

"Pardon?"

"I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for not going to search for you at the cafe. I was being a dick and got distracted by a girl. A GIRL OF ALL THINGS! I'm your- I was your best friend...," As Alex rambled about how sorry he was, George wasn't listening. All he heard were 5 words on repeat. They stung everything inside of George.

I was your best friend.

was.

As the last few words stumbled out of Alex's mouth, George had a singular word to say to the boy in the beanie.

"...was?"

Both boys looked so hurt that it was as if they had lost everything important to them. It was as if they had to start all over and rebuild brick by brick a never-ending building. One word held that much power? 

"Well, I presumed you wouldn't want to be best friends with me anymore, let alone friends. I hurt you in so many ways that day and I want what is best for you. Not me, you. You deserve better than me, George. You may not realize it or believe it, but trust me just this once," Alex paused before George urged him to continue.

"You are enough," Quackity whispers to George. Both are on the verge of collapsing, crying, everything. They were best friends. There is one question, though.

Can they be repaired?

George sighs and tries to collect his thoughts as he manages to utter a few sentences.

"Alex. I'm not going to throw out YEARS of friendship over a fight. Yes, this was a really, really, REALLY bad fight, and I am still a bit hurt by it, but guess what? You are everything I have man. I can't lose everything again," George expressed with a sad smile finding its way onto the brunette's face. A comfortable silence fell upon the boys as the words sunk into both of them. They weren't going to lose each other. They needed each other, more than thought possible.

"Can you promise me one thing?"

"Of course I can Gogy," The shorter remarked, a giggle escaping his lips.

"Promise me that no matter how bad the fights get between us, we will always come back to each other. We will always find our way back to each other. I need you Alex. I'm hoping you need me too," George said, peering into the other's eyes.

"I promise."

But promises mean nothing when they can be broken so easily.

(1975 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slightly longer chapter pog


	14. the call

(TW mention of homophobia, swearing)

I dream 

of you

almost every night

hope- fully 

I won't wake up this time...

The lyrics really stood out to George, considering he related to them. Ever since the hospital and the dream, he had been constantly dreaming of the blond. Some where they were together and were actually happy. They lived far beyond their little home town, usually in a small cottage while the smell of vanilla filled the air. In this beautiful fantasy, Dream and George always did "couple things", like holding hands, cuddling while watching a horror movie, baking together and causing food fights, it was nice. The dreams were comforting in a sense, until he woke up. Why did he have to wake up? Most of the time the dreams felt like just that. A dream.

Most of the time.

There were some moments, some night terrors, that managed to creep into George's mind and rob him of a peaceful sleep. There were multiple outcomes and multiple stories to these robbers of the night, yet only one stuck out to him in his mind. He was in the same old forest, surrounded by the same old greens and yellows of the trees. He heard a very familiar, disgusting voice cackle and echo throughout the forest. He always found his father suffocating the love of his life, Clay's eyelids fluttering shut as he tried to get a breath to escape his lips. George couldn't scream, couldn't move, all he could do was sit and watch. Watch as his father said horrific words to George, calling him homophobic slurs as he choked the life out of golden boy. As soon as the body fell, the brunette would shoot awake, sweating bullets and a tear would slide down his fiery cheeks. These were the nights that scared George the most.

The days were even worse.

There was still an awkward tension brewing between the two short boys each day as if they haven't fully recovered from the cafe incident. The silences that were held between the boys weren't comfortable anymore; they were like predators, waiting for their prey to make a noise. Even when George was alone for a little bit during the day when Alex went to look for jobs, his phone would not let him spend one minute looking at something else. Whether that be missed messages from golden boy on every social platform or just something pulling George into the mesmerizing screen, it did the job as for the whole day the brunette was staring at his phone. The messages from Clay warmed George's heart, yet shattered it at the same time.

hey George:) sorry for what happened between us...even though idk what exactly happened I'm still sorry. feel better:)

hey Georgie it's me again. just checking in:) Kaliyah actually wanted to meet you in private to apologize for what happened in the restroom. She doesn't exactly know what happened, and neither do I , BUTTTT if you give us a chance we will, or at least I will, make it up to you<3

George I'm starting to get nervous. just one word to let me know you are okay. please.

George...

text me back or call or anything to signal ur okay I don't want you to have a relapse George.

After the many missed calls and messages, the brunette decided he needed to stop being a bitch and needed to at least call Clay. They need to talk about what happened because clearly the feelings of dread that is hidden in the depths of George's stomach will never go away if they don't. The phone rung one time before an urgent, familiar voice spoke through the phone.

"GEORGE oh my thank god you are okay I was so worried," Dream spoke with urgency, yet with a tone that was as smooth as butter. This was going to be a long day for the brunette.

"Yeah," George muttered with a tone Clay couldn't quite decipher.

"Are you okay, George? I know where we left off wasn't the...greatest," The blond's tone only got quieter as if he was about to present in front of his class. Both of the boys were nervous, just one showed it in a... nicer way than the other. 

"Yeah I'm fine Clay. Now what did you want to talk about?" Annoyance laced the shorter's tone as he spoke. He clearly wasn't fine, but if Dream pushed it, he would just get pushed farther into the abyss without George. 

"I wanted to apologize for-,"

"You don't have anything to apologize for, Clay. You did nothing wrong. All you did was bring Kaliyah to our breakfast, which I was not expecting, but it wasn't bad. She seems nice enough and she clearly makes you happy. Happier than you were with me...but that's beside the point. You and her are happy and I am happy for you...," George trailed off as thoughts caressed his mind. He was right. Clay and Kaliyah didn't do anything wrong.

It was just George being George.

"but..?" Dream questioned seeing as there was a long pause over the phone.

"But... I think I need some air,"

"what do you mean George?"

George took a deep breath and paused before continuing. What he was about to say was going to sting both of their hearts.

"I need time away from you, Dream. You are like an addictive drug I keep coming back to. You have hurt me so much, yet I still find myself coming back to you, seeking care from someone like you-" Clay cut him off before George got to finish.

"What do you mean a person like me? Yes, I know I hurt you in the past, but you do NOT know ANYTHING about me. You do not know my past or my background so you can't say shit about 'people like me' because I worked so FUCKING HARD to get where I am today. I won't let my fingers slip from this life just because of you. I know I hurt you and I will apologize about that until the day I die, but I won't be treated as just another dick. There's more to me than just my appearance," Clay snarled, leaving the brunette speechless and hurt. He was right. George didn't know anything about Clay if he really thought about it. George never let him talk about himself. 

Once again, guilt came flooding back to its comfortable spot inside of George.

"That isn't what I meant at all, Dream. I know I don't know much about you, well, I don't really know anything about you. You know what though? I don't really care about you beating my ass. I have gotten over that physically. But the emotional and mental damage you have done to me? It can't be fucking fixed and that is on YOU. Just because you had it rough as a kid doesn't mean that excuses all of your actions," George fought back this time. He never fought back with anyone, ESPECIALLY the people he cared about. This was a revelation.

And George felt stronger than ever.

"I'm not your little pet that you can pick on Clay. I'm a human being and I deserve as much respect as you do. I may not look as cool as you with your fucking sense of style, but we are all human at the end of the day. I'm done taking shit from people. So, if all you are going to do is give me shit for the rest of my life then you need to back off," George's confidence rose with every sentence he spoke. He was finally standing up for himself.

It felt great.

Silence loomed over the call for a few minutes before Clay finally decided to speak up, his tone soft.

"I don't want...I can't lose you George. So if you need space, I'll give it to you. Just please don't leave me. Everyone fucking leaves me and I-," the blond paused to take a deep breath.

"I can't lose you, George. I love you."

George's jaw was practically through the floor at this point. Nobody since his sister has uttered those three words to him. They rang through his head as the room went silent. 

I love you.

The boy he loved had just told him he loved him. George knew it was in a friendly way, yet butterflies still managed to flutter around in his stomach at the thought of the three words. Wow.

This golden boy had George wrapped around his finger.

He wasn't complaining, though.

"I- I think we need space still...but I think we can work it out eventually," The brunette finally responded. 

"Goodbye, Clay,"

"Goodbye, George."

And with that, the call was ended. The conversation was over. George finally stood up for himself and it felt beyond incredible. It was as if a hurricane of relief struck his whole body, a newfound confidence also spreading like wildfire. A few goosebumps were still upon his arms at the three words that played on repeat. 

George fell on the comfortable mattress, the back of his head buried in the two pillows upon the bed. His eyes fluttered shut as a smile crept on top of his face. George had fallen victim to Dream's game, but he didn't mind. 

He was a meer sheep to Dream's Shepard, but he didn't mind.

At least someone still cared about him.

(1634 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the heavy dialogue BUT it was needed:)


	15. friends?

(minor TW mention of drugs)

The days for Clay melted together into one as they started feeling longer and longer each time, knowing he couldn't talk to the short brunette for a while. He couldn't just shorten the break George clearly needed, so he had to wait. As much as he liked Kaliyah, she could be a little...aggressive at times. Her anger issues had been really showing lately, since he was spending more time keeping busy, trying to force his mind out of the prison of thoughts about his friend. Friend.

Just a friend?

yeah.

I think.

Clay's thoughts sometimes overwhelmed him, but it was normal to him. It was okay. Everything was okay for the time being. The only thing that actually hurt him was actually his girlfriend. She would never abuse him physically, that was clear as day. She really did love Dream more than she loved anyone, but when she got angry, it took over. It was like a demon took over her soul when the blond slipped up; Her eyes turned into chocolate that looked like it was surrounded by a pool of blood, while her face fired up and her body made it seem like she was going into a manic-like state. Her voice would always go hoarse after the violent screams and harsh words that collapsed out of her lips, but she'd always soon realize what she did wrong. She would constantly apologize and tears would slip down her face, yet she refuses to get help. It's like she knows she has a problem, but she is too scared to own up to anybody.

Dream understood, though.

Dream was too scared, too frightened to commit and tell someone about his trauma. He had to answer the door to two men in black suits, with a solemn face strung on both of the men when he was 10 years old. He had to hear the two mystery men mutter that his father had died in a shooting as he was a soldier. He had to bear the news to his sleeping mother and his 2 year-old sister. He had to rely on himself to survive, as his mother fell into a very depressive state. All while he was only ten years old. 

Clay also had to deal with sleeping in and out of a tight car with his two sisters and his sleep-deprived mother. He had to take care of Drista since he was a little kid, while his mother worked multiple jobs just to keep the family fed. They were a very close-knit family, seeing as what they had went through was a traumatizing story. Dream wasn't a jerk for the fun of it.

He did it to get by.

The blond didn't want to worry his mother about failing school just like another dumb kid, so he copied the brunette's answers. He didn't just use it to turn in, though. George had a very interesting, yet incredible, thinking process. His mind worked at a faster pace and it was as if George was sprinting and Clay was jogging. He used the work to learn, study, etc.. He used it to get by, and it worked brilliantly. 

If it ain't broke, don't fix it, right?

He also, even though his reasoning for this wasn't the greatest, he beat people like George up to get practice. Yeah, yeah say all you want about the guy but seeing as he got beat up every single day on the way home from the same druggies that hid in the shadows of the neighborhood he grew up in, it was understandable. He had to learn how to fight and defend himself so he could just survive the night with only a few bruises. No one noticed, though.

He hid them better than Nick and George.

Now that he thinks about it, the three aren't really that different after all.

In an alternate universe, maybe they could all be best friends. They could be the trio of a life time; people would look up to them. Maybe they would even start their own brand or something like that. In an alternate reality, maybe everything would be okay.

But this isn't a fantasy.

This is reality.

And every ounce of Clay's aching soul wanted to rewind time and wanted to change the universe. He wanted what happened to his family to change, he wanted the way he went about doing things to change, he wanted himself to change. 

Yet, things don't change unless you take action. And Clay couldn't take action.

So, he got used to it.

His days that soon blurred into one long month went as follows: He would wake up from his horrid slumber, awaking from another nightmare that he could never remember. Following that, he would call Kaliyah and invite her over to the apartment as he ate a bland bagel, the crumbly buns finding their way inside of the male's lips. The next hours were spent staring at his phone, the urge to call George clinging to his brain all day, every day. His eyes might have been trained on his small television in his apartment, yet his mind was soaring to different places. Whether it be calling George, hanging out with his girlfriend Kaliyah, talking to Nick...George. He just wished he could snap his fingers and bam. Everything would be repaired between the two. They would be friends again and the air would be light again. The sun would shine again and the clouds would depart. Everything would feel just a tad bit lighter on his shoulders.

But, yet again, reality strikes his core. The deed was already done, they were on break for who knows how long. His stomach was empty, as was his soul, while the brunette was away. Slowly, but surely, though, Kaliyah was healing the wounds. She might not have been perfect, but no one was, right? He missed George, but that's natural to miss someone you care about.

There was one problem, though.

He loved Kaliyah and he loved George.

He just couldn't tell which love was romantic.

Clay was screwed, as was George.

Both had underlying feelings for each other, just one doesn't know it yet. They could never, EVER tell each other, though. It wouldn't just ruin them.

It would cause everybody around them to collapse.

Everyone would break, because of them.

That wasn't going to happen.

No matter what the cost was.

(1142 words)


	16. emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS THE SHORTEST CHAPTER THAT WILL BE WRITTEN IT IS A FILLERBHDJAF BUTTT NEXT CHAPTER IS GOOD SO:)

The brunette woke from his yet another dream about the same old thing: Being with Clay. His pearly smile faded when he realized that it was just another fantasy, suddenly flopping back onto the mattress, sighing. He wanted something to stick, he wanted something to stay with him because nothing or no one ever sticks around to see George happy. They all vanish into the abyss of sorrow, luring him deeper and deeper as his heart shatters piece by piece each day. Nothing ever sticks and it hurts. The one guy who thought he would have forever was Alex, and now the friendship has gotten so awkward to the point of no return. It hurts.

More than you would think.

George missed his best friend, yearned for the old days that they were happy. They would talk every day about the most random stuff, they would make each other's smiles grow, they would be happy. He missed those times. He wants them back.

What the hell is stopping him?

Like I said earlier, thoughts are a very powerful thing. And so are emotions. When those two dangerous delicacies collide?

Havoc Unleashes, whether it be for the better...

Or worse.

______________

Thoughts and emotions colliding together has always been a struggle to George. Sometimes, he wouldn't be able to think rationally which was caused by the overwhelming emotions from his throbbing heart. He would decide based on feelings, which could be like the light at the end of a tunnel, or it can be the darkness. It can either build someone up, or tear them apart.

It usually tore George apart.

So the feelings Dream caused? And the feelings that clouded his judgement?

The brunette was used to it by now.

As much as he tries to escape the pit of butterflies, he can't. He is incapable of forcing the feelings away, yet no one is. As much as he tries and tries to make logical ideas when he is involved in a scandalous crush like he is in right now, he simply can't. That will either be George's downfall or his uprising.

Take a guess at which it will be.

(436 words)


	17. my drug

(TW panic attack, mention of drugs)

George needed Alex, and Alex needed George. Yet, the awkward tension bubbling around them has only been rising. The brunette is planning on ending that today. He won't accept failure because Quackity has been his day one, his motivation. He won't lose his motivation.

The brunette lost it once. He is determined not to lose it again.

So, he organized his thoughts, for once. He planned a time, he planned the place, he planned his big speech. He had everything sorted out and he was ready to fire his one shot, his one bullet. There is one question looming in the back of his head, though.

Will I miss my shot?

_____________

At around 6:45 in the evening, George picked Quackity up from his job and took him out to a small diner where he had made a reservation(#fancy). They walked in to an older woman greeting them with a warm smile. She walked them to a comfortable, maroon booth and handed them both menus. The aroma of this small restaurant was incredible, filling the boys' noses with the smell of fresh baked bread and soup. It was a generally small building, consisting of only a few booths and tables. Only a few other families and couples sat around the nearby tables, leaving Alex and George alone in their thoughts. The walls were scattered with a few paintings as a pastel yellow left a splash of color among the walls. The silence was tearing at the boys again, but George was not afraid to strike for once.

"Alex, we need to talk about what the fuck has been happening because of obvious reasons. Are you upset at me for some reason? Like no offense or anything but the only thing I did was accept your apology. I need you Alex and I know for a fact you need me so what has happened with us?" George states calmly, getting straight to the point.

Silence, one again, fell upon the two, both hearts beating a bit faster than usual. Nerves struck them as Alex tried to come up with the right words to fall out of his lips. His mind scrambled as he searched through the dense plains of his brain.

"I- I," Quackity stuttered, not being able to produce a coherent sentence. Tears were brimming the shorter's dark chocolate eyes, frightened by the consequences he would have to suffer if the wrong words flowed through his vocal cords. George's eyes urged him to continue, seeking an answer to his painful question. He knows George is right; there has been an awkward tension bubbling between the two, which is a territory neither the boys are happy nor familiar with.

"I think it may be because what I did, was something that can't be easily forgiven. I know we will always circle back around and come back to each other because we are connected, George. We were, still are, and hopefully always will be, best friends...," As Alex began to ramble on and explain what had happened, thoughts ran loose around the brunette's mind.

hopefully we will be best friends.

hopefully.

Better than nothing, right?

Hope for their friendship began to shine through the clouds of overthinking as Alex concluded his rant about how why everything had happened the way it did. As the brunette's head swings back into reality, Alex chuckles at the confusion that was hanging upon the other's face.

"Did you even listen to anything I said, Gogy?" 

The nickname. 

As someone who has despised that nickname since he was given it, he missed it.

A lot.

"heh I kinda missed that nickname," George mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for anyone to hear. Nonetheless, the other boy's ears digested the information as a smile lurked upon his face.

"Really? I thought you hated it,"

"I did. I think I missed the idea of someone calling me a stupid nickname. I missed my best friend, Alex. I missed you," George spoke with passion, tilting his head so their eyes meet. They gazed into each other's souls, as if to search for an answer to a non-existent question. 

"I missed you too, Gogy," George rolled his eyes at the silly remark, a giggle escaping his lips. They still had their energy inside of them, it just wouldn't escape. Slowly, but surely, though, the friendly fire was returning. It lifted the eerie silence and replaced it with comfortable banter throughout the air. Maybe it was the soothing atmosphere, or maybe it was the genuine friendship finding it's way back home, but either way, it was the perfect moment. Everything was perfect, for just that minute. 

That was the true calm before the storm.

They two boys hear the chimes to signal that people were entering the building, and as George's curiosity takes over and peers to the door, the worst imaginable feelings hit his guts like a wrecking ball. The familiar blond and his stunning girlfriend walked through the door, their hands interlocked as they strutted into the restaurant. Concern was written upon Quackity's face as he noticed the pair who had walked through the door, while George's face slowly heated from panic. 

"We can go to a different place to eat, George. I will pay for this and we can leave as soon as possible," Quackity urged with a tone full of worry. Even though as much as the idea had seemed wonderful, George had to face his fears eventually.

It came sooner than expected, though.

"Hey guys," The female strides as she speaks with a smile beaming from her face, forcing a smile to form upon both George and Alex. George turned around to face none other than golden boy and Kaliyah. His face flushed pink as Clay scratched his neck as he eyed George, an awkward tension building. 

"Mind if we sit here?" Kaliyah beamed, clearly happy with the relationship she was in. The two best friends eyed each other wearily as if trying to communicate to one another. As Quackity was about to deny the offer, the brunette cut him off.

"Sure!" George faked a happy tone, which clearly no one expected, especially golden boy. His forest-green eyes showed shock, yet a hint of happiness lurking in the shadows. Kaliyah took a seat next to the boy with a beanie, which left Clay being forced to sit next to the guy he needed space from. Well, George was the one who needed space, but it benefitted them both, shockingly. He sat down in the maroon stained booth, only a small gap separating the boys from touching. 

George struggled to breathe, the small gap causing panic that would not seem to decrease. His face flushed a bright pink, almost looking like he had just witnessed a ghost. Tears were starting to form in his eyes that were speckled with a bit of pink from the light strain. He needed space mentally, and now he needed PHYSICAL space. What has this stupid guy done to him? 

George is a wreck. Because of him.

It isn't his fault though.

Dream is George's weakness. Like a drug. George will always go back to him because he is addicting. He just needs to take a glance at the muscular figure and he is hypnotized. The blond is so mesmerizing to George, yet all he has done has caused pain to George. 

Dream is a drug, and George is addicted.

As panic seems to rise in George's body, he swiftly excuses himself and heads towards the bathroom. Although the restroom is completely different from the one at the cafe, it still brings memories back. Not good ones. 

George turns on the faucet and splashes water on his face, trying to steady his breaths. He squeezes his nails into the palms of his hands in attempts to stop the rapid shaking. He doesn't draw blood this time, yet marks are left upon his hands, pink staining his hands temporarily. As his breath begins to steady, he hears the door creak open and sees a figure appear over his shoulders, towering over him.

"George..?" Dream questions with a soft tone, worry the only noticeable expression on his face. George quickly swiped his tears that had escaped off of his rosy cheeks and took a deep breath. He slowly rotated his head to look golden boy in the eyes, and just saw worry and concern. It hurt his soul knowing his friends were worrying about him. And the reason, the cause of all of this panicking and pain?

Dream.

His drug.

"Yeah Dream?" George questioned innocently, as if nothing had just occurred. 

"George," Dream states with a more serious tone, worry still spread throughout his whole body. Dream seemed to be nervous and anxious. He seemed to be in a pre-meditative panic attack state, like George was just minutes ago.

"I know it is...complicated between us right now, Gogy...," George cringed at the nickname, yet familiar butterflies fluttered around his stomach.

"...and I really, really wish it wasn't, but it is. And there is nothing we can do about it unless we talk. In person. Maybe without so many people around," Clay suggests, leaving George with an almost uncertain feeling. Curiosity struck his core, yet fear of losing one of the people he cares most about also hid in the abyss of feelings. 

"Also, Quackity INSISTED on going into the bathroom but I decided we needed to talk, plus I wanted to check on you since, you know, I care about you. He clearly cares too, just so you know. We both care about you a LOT, George. People care."

George struggled to take in the words golden boy had just spoken.

People care.

People care.

People care.

Silence struck the boys in the bathroom once again, tension forming in the air. George didn't understand, couldn't comprehend what had just happened. They were potentially going to meet up. Alone. Is that the best idea? Hell no. Is that going to stop George from doing the unthinkable?

Same answer. Hell. No.

People care, and George was not going to let them slip out of his grasp. 

He lost his sister.

He lost Alex TWICE.

He lost Clay once.

He isn't going to lose the people he cares about again. Not now, not ever.

And he will do whatever it takes, to keep them in his grasp.

Whatever it takes.


	18. reflections

"George?" Dream questions to snap George out of his trance. George's mind was puzzled, confused at the event that had just occurred. The gap. The intimacy. The anxiety. The bathroom. The steps. The calm. The storm. The meeting. Everything happened so fast, yet time seemed to freeze at the sudden suggestion. George and Dream meeting. In private. It sounded too good to be true, but it wasn't a date. This wasn't a fantasy, this was reality. They were going to discuss everything.

Well, maybe not their unresolved feelings towards one another. But that is besides the point, right?

"Oh yeah heh sorry-," George let out a breathy chuckle that almost sounded forced. It was as if George was examining Dream, studying his facial expressions to search for an answer. Was meeting with Clay really the right thing to do? Or was it just going to cause another hurricane of emotions? Will it make this whole situation fade away? 

Just tell me it's a dream.

George thought, praying he would wake up in the comfort of Alex's mattress.

It wasn't a dream, unfortunately. 

"I agree that we should talk in person. We- I don't know what is going on between us Clay, but something, anything needs to change. We can talk about this later, though, considering my best friend and your- your girlfriend are waiting," George internally cringed at the word girlfriend. Kaliyah seems like an amazing person and as much as desires to like her, to be happy for both of them, he just can't. He can't like someone he desperately wants to be. He envies her.

Clay nods his head in agreement as George looks in the mirror to try and look acceptable. He uses his hand to swipe the hair out of his hazel eyes and takes a breath. His eyes are still a bit puffy, but not noticeable enough for someone to ask about it. His skin was beginning to gain more color and he looked okay. He seemed okay.

Internally, though, he was a train wreck.

Dream and George slowly walked out of the bathroom towards the booth. Relief flooded Alex's face as Kaliyah's smile grew wider seeing her boyfriend again. God, she was perfect. Her smile, her hair, her skin, her everything. She was everything that everyone aspired to be. She didn't seem to have any flaws when you took a glance at her.

Yet, everyone has flaws.

Some just can't see it.

_____________

As the group of four finished up their delicious soup and the baguette at the diner, they began to say their goodbyes to one another. The diner gave a sense of comfort to George, and as much as he didn't want to leave, a bit of his heart sang with relief as the couple left his sight. Quackity sighed with the same feeling and turned his head towards the brunette, who seemed to be lost in his thoughts. 

Even if he noticed, though, Quackity didn't mention it.

The pair of best friends bid a goodbye to the lovely lady at the front of the diner and walked out of the door. A heavy feeling settled upon George's skin, causing chills to be sent down the brunette's spine. He couldn't pinpoint the feeling, but he didn't like it at all.

George is definitely going to come back to this place. It reminds him of his second home.

They entered the car with Alex at the steering wheel, turning the ignition on(idk anything about cars give me a break). The drive back home was filled with a comfortable silence as they drove the nearly-empty streets back to the house. The windows of the car were cracked open, a breeze flowing through George's hair. Quackity was wearing a beanie, as always, so it didn't really effect him. As they pulled around the corner and the tires directed towards their home, a question dawned upon the shorter's mind.

"What did you and Dream have to talk about in the bathroom?"

George seemed surprised by the question. He didn't really have a valid answer either. What was he supposed to say? They were setting up a private meeting so they could discuss their emotions? No way in hell was George saying that. So, he decided the next best answer.

"Oh, nothing," George replied with a neutral tone. He was so vague, which was a bit suspicious to the best friend, but he didn't push it any further, not wanting to break the unwritten rules. Alex and George have never been the emotional type; if they talked about their emotions, it meant that the situation was urgent. That only happened once, when Quackity came back and they were discussing the past events in the car. Alex nodded, yet huffed an unknowing breath as his eyebrows furrowed, mind racing. Two words led to the overthinking from both of the boys, as per usual. 

Words are dangerous, yet no one seems to recognize the power.

The two walked into the familiar surroundings, a sweet aroma filling their noses. The house smelled of mixed berries, so one could only presume a fruit tart was made. That was, in fact, the case. Alex's mother had made it before she had to go to her night shift at her work for them, seeing as they already ate dinner. George was treated as a son, as family at this household. He loved being apart of a family.

Since he has never felt it before, wonderful was an understatement.

The boys decided to save the dessert for later and made their way up the stairs to their bedroom. Their bedroom. That was a weird thought, yet comfort was the only feeling fluttering in George's stomach. 

The two boys talked for hours upon hours, just like they used to when they were 13 years old. It was nice, being able to relive your childhood stress-free. Well, not completely free. Just the THOUGHT of having to meet with Clay, with no one around, scared the living daylights out of the brunette. 

As late hours feel upon the boys and they finished their slices of the sweet fruit tart, drowsiness smacked them across the face as both pairs of eyelids fluttered shut. George was on the air mattress that was set up just days ago. Quackity was already snoring, causing George to hold in his breathy laughs. Bags were under his eyes, not only from the crying from earlier, but also from the sleepless nights he has been getting lately. He stays awake for hours upon hours on end, lost in his own thoughts. Not overthinking, necessarily, but just random thoughts. Thoughts about his past, his present, his future, a blend of everything. 

Tonight was different, though. He had cried, he had a very interesting experience with golden boy to say the least, and he was tired. Not in a bad way, he was just tired. And even though he had been scared to fall asleep ever since he was a young boy, he did today. 

That was a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22k words? Pog?


	19. reality?

(TW HOMOPHOBIC SLUR, PANIC ATTACK, kinda a pedophilic thing(I can reclaim the slur since I am apart of the LGBTQ+ community, but I decided to blur it out because I and many others don't feel comfortable using/reading it))

George felt wet droplets splash on his face lightly, his eyes fluttering open to the sensation. He awoke to the sun painting yellow beams across the sky. Evergreens surrounded him, the familiar forest causing a sigh of aggravation to slip from the brunette's lips. Just great. Back in the same old nightmare, stuck in the same loop. But something was off. It was raining. In his old forest night terrors, it was always a bright day, the sky only dusted with one or two white clouds. Why was his dream so...different this time. Not only the rain, but George could...talk?

"Hello? Is anybody out there?" George called out, hearing a small echo ring throughout the trees. No response. Was he alone out here? What was the point of a dream if he was alone-

A familiar wheeze pierced the brunette's heart.

The trees danced in the wind as the rain began to pick up speed, almost pounding on George's skin at this point. The weather, he could talk, Clay? 

What the hell is this dream?

George walked with his arm trying to give some sort of protection to his head, searching for the tall blond. He assumed he was laughing with Kaliyah, but a puzzled expression sprawled across the brunette's face when he stumbled upon the two boys. Alex and Clay were laughing at something on one of their phones, seemingly amused at whatever it was. 

"ALEX?" George shouted from across the path. Apparently the boys couldn't hear him, so he guessed they also couldn't see him. The decision he made was about to be one he regretted. George snooped.

The brunette strided across the gravel path, the rain picking up speed. The rain was now pounding against George, the wind nearly knocking the frail figure over. The two were still in a fit of hysterics, causing even more questions to form inside of head. What could possibly be-

Time froze.

Tears were already forming, brimming the brunette's milk chocolate eyes. He trusted them and this is what he got in return? Thunder boomed in the sky as the rain sped up once again, leaving George's head spinning. Tears got meshed with the rain as they both consumed the brunette's face. His body was glued to the position he was in, staring silently at the message he apparently sent to Dream in confidence. How could his best friends, his family, do that to him? He thought they cared. Apparently not. The message from George was a small paragraph explaining that his sexuality was definitely not straight, and they were about to send a message back. The message that made George fall apart.

'Fuck you, f*g'

_____________

George shot out of bed, sweat drenching his face and the top of his plain white t-shirt. His eyes were slightly puffy from the crying in his sleep, his nose red from the constant sniffles that occurred while the crying commenced. He grabbed his phone as quick as he could and tapped the lime green message icon. He looked back at the messages he sent dream, relief flooding his system when he realized it was all a dream. Still, the dream caused an unsettling feeling to lay in the brunette's stomach. What if his friends actually felt like that? If he lost them, because they didn't accept George? 

Hurt, anger, sorrow. That would all he would be feeling.

George couldn't even IMAGINE what would happen if they found out about his questioning feelings. For God's sake, he didn't even know how he was feeling. 

Oh. My. God.

This has got to be the worst day he had to have that nightmare. He was supposed to meet Dream. Today. Discuss his emotions. How the hell was he supposed to that when...when that just occurred. He couldn't reschedule either; it would cause Dream just to drive over himself. 

This was going to be possibly one of the worst days of George's sad life.

_____________

Alex was still fast asleep, considering it only was 8:30 am. George had woken around 6:50, so just decided to stay awake. Thoughts and questions raced through his mind. How was this going to work? Should he talk about his sexuality? No. What was George going to do? The thoughts lingered in his mind as he let his shower heat up, fog covering up the mirror. He turned on his playlist and stepped into the steaming shower. The water burned his skin and reminded him of the rain, which sent shivers down his spine. His body went into a panicky state as his limbs started to shake. Tears didn't seem to arrive, surprisingly, as much as he wanted them to. He wanted to cry and let all of his emotions out. He wanted to tell somebody, anybody about his dream. He couldn't, though. His emotional dams blocked his tears from exiting, as well as the words. George closed his eyes as he struggled to breathe at a steady pace. To be honest, he struggled to breathe in general. Nothing George did ever satisfied anyone, including himself. He wanted to be normal, he wanted to not have panic attacks, he wanted to not overthink, he wanted to not like guys. He wanted to be normal, but he was the opposite.

George hated himself for that. 

______________

He stepped out of the shower after a twenty-minute mental breakdown and stepped into some ripped jeans and a plain, black hoodie. It wasn't the most exciting outfit, but at least it was different. George combed his brunette locks, brushing them to the side in a swoop-like style. He vigorously brushed his pearly-white teeth and put on some kind of deodorant. He looked at himself in the mirror and cringed. He still wasn't fully comfortable in his own skin.

Why can't he just be normal?

A knock on the door snapped him out of his trance. He quickly calmed himself down and patted down his hoodie, trying to look as if he didn't just have a panic attack in the shower. 

"Yeah?" George's voice was shaky, but not noticeable to anyone besides himself. 

"Hey dude, you okay? It's been like an hour," Alex chuckled, giving relief a chance to flood his system again. At least Alex didn't know what had happened. Not just in the shower, but in the dream as well. 

"Yeah I'm okay I just got carried away with the music I guess," George forced a giggle. He opened the door to find the shorter boy wearing pajamas with no beanie. This was the first time George had ever seen his hair. Maybe Quackity didn't hate him after all.

"your hair-," Before the brunette could even finish his sentence, Alex felt all around his head in a state of panic. He hadn't even realized the beanie was still on the floor of the messy bedroom. A sigh escaped his lips, since George had already seen the dark hair now anyways. 

"It- It definitely is some hair," George mocked, breaking into a fit of laughter. This caused the other boy to start wheezing, causing even more laughter to arise from George. He hadn't laughed like that in a long time. George missed it.

"OH SHUT UP GOGY I WILL MURDER YOU!" Quackity threatened through wheezes, trying to keep his composure. They were chasing each other around the house like they were 12 years old again. It was nice.

The calm before the storm.

______________

The meeting. George was dressed and ready to go, trying to prepare for what was about to happen. They were meeting at the diner, since George had suggested they meet there. At least if anything happened, it was at the diner. His second home. 

Alex allowed the brunette to take his car to the place, knowing what was about to happen. So, George hopped into the vehicle and started the engine, turning down the road and driving. He drove for about 10 minutes until he reached the familiar area and parked the car. Before stepping out into the cool air, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His nerves were taking advantage of him, and he couldn't allow that during the talk. He couldn't allow his dream to turn into a reality. He stepped out of the car, the air sending chills down his body. It was cool, considering it was around 7 pm. He slowly walked towards the doors until he heard footsteps behind him. It sounded as if the person was trying to catch up to the brunette, so he turned around to see the familiar figure standing near him, out of breath. It looked like he had ran all the way here.

That was, in fact, the case.

Dream didn't have his own car, since his family only had one car. His mother and Drista had gone out to the grocery store, and he didn't want to delay the meeting any further. So, he ran. Ran all the way from his apartment to the diner. It was around a ten minute drive, so probably about a twenty to thirty minute run. He was devoted.

It made George's heart sting a bit more, knowing how much the blond cared. 

George didn't care about the transportation process, so the two just stepped into the diner in silence, well, beside the panting from exhaustion escaping golden boy's lips. The same lady greeted them with a warm smile, and sat them down at a burgundy table for two with a small vase of flowers in between them. The flowers were of a variety, consisting of pink, red, and white roses. The vase was a light shade of purple, blending well with the flowers. 

The two boys sat, scared to speak the first words. What were they meant to say, anyway? Instead of doing what they came there to do, the boys peered down at the menus, trying to distract themselves from the conversation that was doomed to happen. As they sat, nerves striking them both, a young waitress, maybe the age of 18, approached them with a bright smile. She was wearing a red collared shirt with black leggings covering her legs. She spoke with a soft tone, yet confidence still lacing her voice. Her hair was a very light blond, and she had bangs that fully covered her forehead. Her hair seemed to be thin, yet it was still a bit wavy. She didn't wear much make-up; only lipstick and a bit of mascara. She was a very beautiful young lady, who seemed to be eyeing George. She made it very clear that she found the brunette attractive, which was nice, but there was something off about the lady. An unsettling feeling loomed in George's stomach, yet he didn't mention it to the boy across from him, who appeared to be puzzled by the lady as well. 

"Hi! I will be your waitress today! Can I start you off with a drink today?" The young woman beamed, still looking at George. Clay was the first to speak up, though.

"Hi, I will take a water, but just to remind you that we both are minors. So, could you maybe stop staring at George like he is a piece of meat? Thanks," A hint of sarcasm laced Clay's tone at the end. He was right, they both were minors. A sigh of relief almost escaped George's lips, but was interrupted by the waitress, who spoke with even more confidence, nearly cockiness.

"Is it bad to find a guy attractive now? I just turned 18 not too long ago and I'm not going to just deny someone is attractive," The woman spoke, almost as if she still wasn't talking to a minor as an adult. Well, technically an adult, but she sure didn't act like one.

"Yeah, it is bad to find a minor attractive when you are over the age of 18," Clay defended, his eyes hiding anger behind them. He looked ready to pounce, staring down his prey. George was very uncomfortable with the situation, clearly. God, who wouldn't be? The blond noticed as soon as he turned to face the brunette and quickly stood up. He grabbed George's hand and dragged them outside, nodding to the old woman at the front and giving her a small, sad smile. Relief flooded the brunette's system, still peering down at the ground, seemingly fixated by the concrete.

"Thank god," George muttered under his breath. This meeting was not going to plan.

"Maybe we can reschedule this meeting? Since, well, you and I are clearly not in a state to talk after that just happened," Golden boy stated, his eyebrows still slightly furrowed, thinking of the situation that had just occurred. It hadn't even been an hour, yet so much had already happened. George nodded his head slightly in agreement and offered to drive the blond home. He hesitantly accepted and they both got into the car. George decided to drive and took the pair back to the apartment complex. Clay directed him, seeing as the brunette had only been there once. Silence feel between them, and neither could tell whether it was a comfortable one or an awkward tension. It was like a blend of good and evil, a mix of light and dark. As they pulled up to the apartment, golden boy suggested something that made George's heart flutter.

"You can sleep at my place if you want, you know, for a change of scenery. Plus, I know you liked my small apartment for some odd reason. You can sleep in the bed while I sleep on the couch. My sister is back from the mall, well, I think, and my mom is going to her night shift. My older sister is probably with her girlfriend. So, we have time to hang out while Drista stays in her room. Does that sound good?"

George was taken back by the suggestion, but he nodded hesitantly, before remembering that he had to drive back to his house, since this was Alex's car. A sigh escaped the shorter's lips, before shaking his head in disappointment.

"This is Alex's car, I have to return it. Otherwise, I would take you up on the offer. I love your apartment," Disappointment laced George's tone clear as day. Clay nodded, his eyes filling with disappointment, but exited the car. They waved one last time before departing. George put the car in reverse, thoughts about the young woman flooding back into his mind. 

God, people are weird.

As George drove, he noticed a car driving towards him, slowly increasing in speed. He thought nothing of the bright red car, and drove to the side to let the driver past. As soon as he drove to the side though, so did the other mysterious driver. They made the same moves at the same time. They got closer, both picking up speed ever so slightly, and closer.

Bam. 

Black.

(2543 words holy crap)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LONG CHAPTER POG


	20. months

The white lights were blinding. The familiar scent of vanilla filled the hospital rooms while the deafening sounds of heart monitors rang throughout the area. The room was bland, as always, while the television was on. Alex was watching the news, his mind focusing on other things. He couldn't help but let his mind wander to what happened that night. 

What did exactly happen that night?

That didn't matter at the moment, though. At the moment, all he was worried about was George. He was wearing his beanie and a button up navy shirt with a pair of jeans. He looked like a divorced dad, but that was okay. It didn't matter how he looked. All he cared about was George. Alex was sitting in a small chair that consisted of one small pillow to leave your back in a comfortable position, but it wasn't comfortable at all. It didn't matter, though. All that mattered was George. 

______________

Black was the last thing he remembered.

George was lying on an uncomfortable surface, which he presumed to be the familiar hospital bed. He was wearing the same old white blouse(i'm so sorry idk what to call it LMAOAOA)with the blue orbs spread on top. His eyelids felt heavy, constricting him from searching the room. His limbs ached, feelings as if they were all cracked. George could barely move, no matter how hard he tried. He tried to signal he was okay, but he just couldn't. His whole body was glued to the bed, stuck in one spot. He couldn't even remember anything that happened after the weird woman at the diner. His mind struggled to process what was happening, struggled to function. His brain was scrambled trying to form coherent thoughts. His breaths were uneven; he was in horrible shape.

That car crash could have been the death of him.

But it wasn't.

He was still alive, and the brunette couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing.

His heart was still beating, yet he wanted it to stop.

His lungs were still operating, but we wanted them to shut down.

______________

Suddenly, everything felt lighter. His eyelids felt like a feather, his breaths were becoming stable, everything felt...easier. It was as if someone just came and took his pain away, made his life easier. He was thankful, yet frightened. He had only been out, what, an hour? Two hours? All track of time was lost when the cars battled each other. His hands felt like weights were lifted off of them. He wanted, no. He needed to see the people he cared about. 

George opened his eyes slowly, eyelids still slightly hanging over his line of vision. His ears were filled with the static from the television, as a woman spoke through a microphone about the news. He couldn't quite make out the words, but that didn't matter. His head spun to the side to find his best friend staring in shock, his lips parted as he directed his attention towards the boy who was finally awake. Alex sprinted to the slightly taller brunette and embraced him with as much force as a truck. George quickly returned the love and winced from the pain. His ribs still were in a lot of pain, but he didn't want to 'ruin the moment'. The doctor walked into the room, but abruptly stopped in his tracks. His eyes widened at the boy in bed, seemingly shocked.

"It's a medical miracle...," The doctor muttered under his breath, yet loud enough for the boys to hear. George's face flooded with confusion, puzzled at the words. What was a medical miracle? He had only been knocked out for a couple of hours max. He had some bruises and maybe a few broken bones, but it wasn't that bad, right?

"Pardon me, what?" George questioned. What was the doctor on about? 

"I have only been knocked out for like a couple hours. I also only have a few bruises," George chuckled with a breathy laugh, sounding forced. Something seemed off in the air, and no one found it amusing. It was a car crash, it couldn't have been that bad.

Right?

"George...," Quackity hesitated, eyes filled with an emotion the brunette couldn't describe. Pain? No. Anger? No. Scared?

Possibly.

"Mr.Davidson, you haven't just been out for a couple hours-," The doctor paused before continuing with a fearful tone.

"It's been a few months since you were last awake."

"Pardon?"

(825 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the short chapter:( anywho be warned the next few chapters will be a flashback AND pov change to clay:) enjoy waiting a few days for the next chapters also CAN SOMEONE TALK TO ME ABOUT TALES OF THE SMP CAUSE GOD I NEED TO RANT ME THEORIES. ANYWHO drink some water and eat if you haven't:) I love you and I am SO proud of you all<3


	21. waiting

(TW throwing up, anxiety attack)

News spreads around fast.

As soon as the blond's phone dinged from the message, fear struck his chest. The message was from Alex. 

George just got into a car crash. Get to the hospital and fast.

His eyes scanned over the message multiple times, making sure it wasn't a nightmare. His-unbeknownst to him-crush was in the hospital. George, the short brunette who has already been through enough, could have died. And he wasn't there to save him.Even though it wasn't his fault, guilt crept through his stomach. If only he had convinced him to stay at his apartment, he would be cuddled up in the cotton sheets of his comfortable mattress. He would have been eating fluffy, buttermilk pancakes topped with a whipped topping and fresh strawberries. They would have been shooting sarcastic remarks at each other; they would have been happy. But he couldn't do that, and guilt was the only thing on his mind.

Well, besides George.

Clay raced to his apartment door, trying to grab the keys off of the dining room counter. He quickly got the shiny keys to the apartment and practically bursted down the door and slammed it shut, causing a scene. He didn't care, though.

All that mattered was George.

He sprinted down the narrow hallways, barely dodging the few people walking the opposite direction of the blond. He caught a few glances from strangers, their eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He didn't mind, though.

All that he cared about was George.

He swung open the glass doors that led to the parking lot, time seeing to go by slowly, yet fast at the same time. He realized that his mother had taken the car to her work, ye he didn't care about how he got to the hospital.

All that he needed was George.

Dream sprinted to the hospital, the soles on his shoes squeaking as he turned around the twists and turns of the neighborhood. Beads of sweat were beginning to form on his forehead as his heart rate increased due to the energy he was using to run to the person he cared about most. His legs were growing sore, as was his chest. His stomach churned just thinking about the fact that George may die. His sprint didn't stop, though.

All he craved was George.

________________

Clay arrived to the hospital in record speed, seeing as he sprinted the whole way there. His limbs were exhausted, his lungs telling him to rest. His mind was begging for a break, but his heart told him otherwise. His heart was connected to George, in some ways. They were linked, they were meant to be friends, at the least. They could be more, in different circumstances. They could have been something more, something real. But that couldn't happen, not now, not anytime soon. George was in a life-threatening situation, his life at stake. Kaliyah, Clay's girlfriend, was also a factor, but that didn't matter right now.

He walked up to the front desk, panting as he walked. The lady could tell he had ran there and concern flooded her eyes, but she didn't mention it. He looked pale and exhausted, but that didn't matter. The tall blond told her the situation, and she informed him the room in which George rested. He speed walked to the elevator, not wanting to cause more of a disturbance than he already did. He pushed the button that read 2 on it, and waited for the elevator to lift him to the second floor. His feet tapped impatiently, adrenaline kicking in once again. He couldn't wait; he needed to know if George was okay. He needed George in general. The brunette was his life support, he couldn't lose him. Clay had lost so much, he couldn't lose the one thing he had left again.

The silver doors opened, and as soon as they did, Clay's feet were already moving at a rapid pace. He turned left and nodded to people along the way, exhaustion finally kicking him in the guts. He felt like he was going to puke, but he didn't care. There was too much on his mind to worry about throwing up. He felt his breath hitch when he saw the room number where George laid. God, he knew this hospital by heart now, because of George. Alex was the only one he saw as he peered through the door, nervous to step in. If George was in bad shape, he didn't know if his heart could handle that. George could pout for one second and Clay's heart would shatter piece by piece, little by little. If he was actually hurt?

That would cause his whole world to burn.

The blond took a deep breath and stepped into the room, taking baby steps as to not disturb Alex, who was taking a rest on the hospital chair. He slowly moved past the curtain that was hiding the brunette, and turned his head to look at the injured George. Nausea and horror struck him like a kick in the balls. He instantly reached for the garbage can and began throwing up, sickened by the way George was battered. The brunette's pale skin was now covered in bruises, the brunette's once neat hair scrambled in havoc. His eyes were surrounded by black and blue shapes as his nose was bent, clearly broken. His arms still showed a hint of dried blood, one of his wrists wrapped in a thick layer of bandages. There was a cast on one of his feet that was being elevated by a pillow. 

It was worse than dream had ever imagined.

The blond felt as if he was going to pass out. His breaths became more uneven the more he analyzed the injured brunette. His limbs began to shake, almost uncontrollably. His heart was pounding in his chest, as were his thoughts. The world seemed to turn slower, time seemed to freeze. Everything was happening in slow motion; it was dreadful. His heart would not stop thumping against his sore chest, legs on the verge of collapsing. His thoughts overwhelmed him as golden boy tried to recover from the anxiety. He was too busy dealing with his own little world that he hadn't even noticed the concern drawn all over Quackity's face, who was now kneeling next to the huddled-up blond. His vision was clouded with tears, and it was caused by a boy. It wasn't George's fault; Clay would never blame George for what he was experiencing. It was caused by the blooming feelings that lurked deep within his soul. He couldn't quite tell if the feelings were platonic or romantic, but he sure did know one thing. 

George mattered more to Clay than he did to himself.

The world was shattering around him, yet he couldn't stop it. All he could do was wait for George to recover, wait for the earth to stop collapsing. He had to wait until he could gaze into the milk chocolate eyes of his best friend, had to wait until everything could be normal again.

That wouldn't happen though.

For a very, very long time.

(1232 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stream road trip on Spotify :))) also manhunt tomorrow pog


	22. a distant memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> manhunt today was epic ngl ALSO the last chapter, this chapter, and the next few chapters are flashbacks of Clay's POV of the crash:)

The air grew with an eerie silence, the only sound forming were sniffles from a blushed nose. Clay had physically grown too tired to keep crying, so instead, his eyes fluttered shut as his breaths tried to steady. His thoughts ran loose around his exhausted brain, trying to comprehend what had just happened. George was hurt, which hurt Clay just as bad emotionally. He was drained from the sobs, his throat still slightly burned from the disgusting substance that just left his lips. Exhaustion had finally hit him like a bus from sprinting for twenty minutes straight to the bland hospital he memorized. His body drifted to sleep as final thoughts consumed his tired brain.

Let George be okay.

I need him to be okay.

So many people need him.

I need him.

The thoughts slowly laid the blond to sleep.

______________

The moon shown down on his tall figure. The stars scattered the navy night sky as tears from the clouds splashed lightly upon the cool concrete. Dream opened his heavy eyelids to see a familiar street that led to George's old house. His mind was puzzled at how he got here, yet he quickly figured it out that this was all a figment of his imagination. It was a dream. or nightmare? He couldn't tell yet.

Yet.

Before he got a chance to wipe the tiredness from his emerald eyes, he heard tires screech behind him. He swiftly got up and ran to the pavement in hopes to not get ran over by a car. the car was as black as the night sky, small, yet swift. There was a man in the drivers seat he didn't recognize, the dark red hood covering most of his face. A small bit of dark brown, nearly black hair stuck out of the hood. The figure was not quite tall, yet his broad shoulders told everything Clay needed to know. His stomach flooded with an uncomfortable feeling as the car sped past him. Another familiar car turned the corner from across the street. He was headed directly towards the black car, and he looked tired. The figure in the car was easily recognizable, his brown locks swooped to the side of his head. The moon shone through the car window as horror struck the pit of Clay's stomach. The cars slowly sped up, increasing towards each other as if they had a rivalry. 

Then it happened and Clay almost dropped dead then and there to the floor. 

The impact was head on, causing both air bags to fill the drivers seats. The noise blared throughout the neighborhood, filling Clay's ears with the crash of the two vehicles. The guy in the black car, the unfamiliar figure, stepped out of his car--more like limped--and quickly speed walked away. The shadow quickly get farther and farther out of golden boy's vision until the only thing he saw were the remains of the cars...and George.

George.

As soon as the name entered his brain, his body turned on autopilot. Clay sprinted to the familiar slim car and reached for the driver's door. It was locked, but adrenaline was pumping through his veins. It was as if he had just gained super strength as he still managed to rip open the locked car door. He quickly unfastened the seatbelt that was covering the brunette who was knocked out cold. Blood was pouring from his arms as black and blue shapes speckled his frosty skin. His face was hidden in the air bag, but he could tell it was, to say the least, messed up. Clay felt like he was going to throw up, yet he was on an adrenaline high. 

Clay picked up the brunette and rushed him to an empty house--all of the houses were empty in this wicked nightmare--and placed the injured, frail figure onto a leather sofa. He didn't bother looking around the house for medical equipment, but instead dialed 911, to which he got no response. It was as if everyone had disappeared beside the two boys and the man who caused this suffering. Time seemed to slow, fear fluttering around Clay's chest. George was a wreck, Clay was a wreck, everything was a wreck. This didn't seem like just a dream.

It was almost a memory.

It seemed too vivid, too real. The nightmare seemed like Clay had seen this before, had watched it in real life. It was all but a distant memory. Clay was there when it happened-at least, it felt like it. Is this what happened? Was it a hit and run? Was George left to die by the mysterious, devilish man?

The answer was yes, but no one knew that.

It was all just a nightmare, right?

________________

Golden boy shot awake, picking himself off of the cold, white tiled floor. Sweat combined with a few tears on his pain-stricken face as his body sent chills down his spine. The air was cool, yet his soul was burning. His heart ached at what he had just seen, and he remembered it as if it happened yesterday. It was almost as if it was a memory, and not a night terror.

It really seemed like a memory. Could it be..?

No.

It couldn't have been a memory. When it happened, he was at his apartment building, strutting into the glass doors. There was a small detail he missed though.

Clay heard the crash when he walked into his apartment. He didn't pay any mind to it, though. It was probably just random strangers, anyway. No one important in his life.

God, was he wrong.

That didn't matter at the minute, though. All that mattered was George, in real life. He was sitting on the hospital floor in the all too familiar surroundings, waiting for George to wake up. Waiting for him to be okay. Why couldn't he just be okay already? 

Dream was growing impatient, and anger rose inside of him. Not at George, but at himself. Why couldn't he have stopped him from driving away? Why did it have to be George who got hurt? Why couldn't it have been him? George was the best damn thing to ever happen to this earth, to Alex, to Dream. They all needed him.

Please wake up. Dream thought to himself, closing his eyes to steady his breathing. 

I need you to wake up, George.

I need you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the shorter chapter: and it's a very rushed ending:((


	23. problems

The week flew past like a hurricane. 

George still was knocked out unconscious, every now and then his finger would twitch as a sign that he was still alive. His heart was still beating and his lungs were still operating, yet he still wasn't awake. The doctors pronounced it a coma the past morning, leaving Clay and Alex defeated. They didn't know how long it would take their best friend to wake up; they didn't even know if he would wake up. Waiting was their only option in the past, and it's there only option now.

So, they waited. 

The two boys made a schedule. They would come every other day, spending the night. They would bring a change of clothes, and once the other arrived the next morning, the boy who was at the hospital would go to their home and sleep on a comfortable mattress. It was hard for both of them, seeing their best friend in that condition, but they couldn't change it. The past is the past, and they had to stop dwelling on how it happened. They had to focus on the present, and wait for George to wake up. Wait for George to heal, wait for everything to feel normal and relaxed once again. Patience is a virtue, as they say.

Clay did not have that virtue, that's for sure.

Each day without George was growing more and more like hell. It would be a bit better if, at the least, his eyes were open. All you need is to peer into someone's eyes and they can tell a world of stories. Yet, he couldn't find one emotion, one hope, one book because his eyes were shut. The library of George was closed, and he despised it. Gazing into George's cocoa eyes that would be paired with his bright smile would just light up his soul and cause fireworks to erupt from his stomach. The feeling was addicting, and he couldn't shake the fact that he might never get that feeling again. As much as he loves Kaliyah, Clay will never feel that feeling with anyone besides George. George and Dream are each other's drugs, they are each other's coping mechanisms. When you lose one coping mechanism, you don't just move on. You grieve, and you can't even cope because that was your coping mechanism. You lost everything. What happens when you lose everything?

Your world crumbles, until there is nothing left.

It crumbles until there is no point to stay anymore. 

He had to have patience, though. If George woke up, and the first thing he found out was that Clay was gone? He would go right back to his old habits. He couldn't, no. He wouldn't let that happen. So, he waited.

It was a struggle, though.

Each minute seemed to get longer as George's eyelids were still glued shut, his mouth not budging. Every time the blond glanced at the bruises, glanced at the broken bones, glanced at George, he died a little more each time on the inside. His heart was shattering each day he went to the hospital just to find the same image of his best friend, his love, in the familiar, white hospital bed which seemed to conflict with the black, blue, and purple specks splattered all over the snowy skin of George. Clay's eyes slowly grew more puffy from the constant sleepless nights at the hospital. He slowly grew dark grey bags under his emerald eyes, which was tinted with a bit of red along the rims of them. His limbs became more stiff when he laid on the chilly tiled floor for a change of positioning. He not only felt, but looked like he was tearing at the seams. 

He couldn't do anything about it, though.

All he could do was wait.

And that is exactly what he did.

______________

The next week without George felt like time had frozen over.

Time was slower. Minutes felt like hours, hours felt like days, days felt like weeks. Every day kept getting harder and harder, for both of the boys. Clay looked like he was more damaged, but Alex's best friend, his only friend he has ever knows, was dying. He needed George to survive, so very badly. The wounds kept getting deeper as the clock ticked with the seconds without the brunette. Soon, if George became a 'lost cause' to the doctors, the wounds would never heal. He wouldn't feel nor be okay. Quackity can't live without George. If anything were to ever happen like this again, his heart would shatter. His pulse would stop, his breathing would stop, everything would stop. At least the pain would be gone. Right?

Both of the boys were shattering at the seams, yet both were too scared to mention anything. It would be too messy. They both felt as if they needed to figure it out by themselves, needed to heal without help. It wasn't healthy, but then again, who were they going to complain to? Themselves? They both were feeling similar, too. That made it worse. Both needed George, both were cracking each moment George's eyes stayed shut, both felt as if their whole world was dying. George was the sun, while they were the planets. Their bond was a solar system, and everyone surrounding them were stars. Smaller, inferior to them, yet everyone seemed too distracted by the bright light they produced to notice the three boys. 

They were both tired of the heavy feeling that stayed looming in their stomachs.

They were exhausted; they both needed some kind, any kind of support system. The perfect one would be each other, but neither seemed to notice. They were too busy dealing with their own internal conflicts. 

Yeah, Clay could have talked to Kaliyah, but she would never understand. She was attached to Dream, and seeing him attached to someone else? It hurt her more than anything, but she couldn't speak about it. George was her boyfriend's best friend, of course he was going to mean a lot to the blond. She did miss him, though. He had been too busy going back and fourth between the hospital and his family to spend time with her. It had been a week since they last uttered a few words over text, nearing three weeks since they last spoke in person. They were drifting away from each other, because of George.

It was cause of the car crash.

That's what Kaliyah convinced herself it was the time they were apart. 

As much as she missed her boyfriend, she couldn't bring herself to talk about it with Clay. He was clearly hurting, and the best thing to do was give him space. She had experience in this area; it was her specialty. She got upset quite often, and when she did, she just wanted to be left alone. She felt as if she needed to do everything on her own, and when someone barged in to help her? It infuriated her. So she gets it. She understands Clay. They were very similar, almost too similar, in a lot of ways.

Their humor, the way they handle their emotions, even the small details like their laughs; they were nearly the same. Sometimes, if the personalities are too similar, they tend to clash. Sometimes, it works out and they live happily ever after. They get married, have a family, start their life together. Other times, though, the similar personalities tend to be better off as just best friends.

Both partners were confused on which category they laid in.

But that was okay, Dream didn't mind being confused.

Kaliyah did, though. 

There was a problem, and she was going to figure it out.

No matter if it costed her everything.

(1355 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the short chapter:( be prepared for possible heavy dialogue next chapter:) love you all thanks for 400 views<3


	24. never meant to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> heartbreak lol

It has officially been a month since George had been pronounced to be in a coma.

Clay and Alex still kept up with their schedule, going to the hospital every other day. Alex had began going for shorter times, though. Instead of spending nights at the horrid hospital, he would spend maybe 6 hours. Then it lowered to four hours. Now Alex goes for about an hour every other day. His hope had already started fading the day George got into the crash, and all hope that had been hidden away in his heart had been lost. Alex missed his best friend, yet he had to learn to live without him. He had to start living, not just surviving. His soul would always be missing a piece which used to be provided by the one lying in the hospital, knocked out cold. It was like a string connected the two of them together. They were platonic soulmates. Now George was gone, probably for good.

Quackity had to learn to live without his family.

He had to learn to live without his home.

It hurt more than imaginable.

_____________

Clay's heart never healed, not at all. 

The blond still went into the place that was almost his second house now every other day, spending the horrible nights there. The night terror of the crash kept repeating in his brain whenever he finally drifted off to sleep after hours of thinking on the cool tiles of the hospital floor. His heart still shattered every time he snuck a glance at George. It seemed hopeless, now, but he refused to give up hope. He couldn't lose hope. His hope is all he has left that is keeping him tied to this earth. His soul was slowly draining him of any reason to stay. He needed to stay, though. He had a mission. He was going to see George wake up, if it was the last thing he does. 

He was not going to give up on George that easily.

But everyday it seemed more tempting. It was hard living without the love of his damn life, which he might not know yet. He so desperately wanted it to work, wanted them to work.

Maybe, just maybe, though...

It was never meant to be.

______________

Kaliyah hadn't talked to her boyfriend in weeks. He's been at the hospital, touring himself by looking at his best friend, lying practically dead in the hospital. He's been consumed by the hopeless case of George. She missed her boyfriend, and as much as she wanted George to be healed and as much as she wanted her boyfriend's heart to heal, she was tired. Tired of sitting and waiting for her supposed boyfriend to care about their relationship. She was tired of waiting for something that wasn't going to work. 

She needed a change in her life. She needed something in her relationship to light up, to show to her that there was still a spark. She wanted, no. She needed a fire in a relationship, and between her and Clay, the fire was dimming. The sun was setting for their relationship, and she couldn't just sit and watch everything fade. She wasn't going to let her life slip out of her fingers. Kaliyah wanted to live, and whether that be with or without Clay was the real question. She would rather live without Clay than survive with him.

She was gong to find out if she could still save their relationship.

She was going to search for a spark that might not even be there anymore.

She was finding out, today.

______________

We need to talk.

Kaliyah had messaged him that today. Clay was worried, I mean, who wouldn't be if they got that message? His anxiety was building, rising from his chest. He had lost his father when he was little, he was losing George because of a stupid guy, and now he might lose Kaliyah. His world was collapsing around him. It was as if the universe had turned against him, laughing at how pitiful his life was. He was surviving off of false hope. Clay wanted to be sure that Kaliyah was the love of his life, but something in the pit of his stomach told him something else. He hated that the love of his life isn't Kaliyah.

He hated even more that the love of his life was dying at the hands of a stranger.

Was it even a stranger?

Clay had the same nightmare every night: Drops of water splashing on his face, hearing tires scream towards him, seeing the man in the car seat that seemed more familiar each day, the impact, the end. He had memorized each detail of the dream now. It was starting to hurt less each time he drifted into the alternate reality, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt at all. His heart ached a little each time he saw the fear in George's eyes as the cars went head to head in a competition of death. 

He hated everything that was happening in his reality, but he couldn't change the past. He wished he could, though; he desperately wanted to go back in time and stop everything from happening. He would change places with George in a heartbeat if it meant the brunette would get to survive. He would do anything to change what had happened.

But, he couldn't. No one could.

It hurt.

______________

Kaliyah had arrived at the hospital, parking with her grey, slim car into the parking garage. She stepped out, the feeling only known as nervousness striking her core. She was listening to music to prepare herself for what she was about to do. The song was called Arcade by Duncan Laurence.

Please carry me, carry me, carry me on.

"I spent all of the love I saved,

We were always a losing game.

Small town boy in a big arcade.

I got addicted to a losing game."

The lyrics, in a way, resonated with her and her relationship. Maybe they were always meant to be doomed. He would always have a special place in her heart, but the game of life isn't fun, especially when it comes to relationships. Maybe, they were never meant to be.

She got addicted to the losing game of life.

As she strided into the hospital, trying to calm her nerves, the chorus struck her heart.

"Alllll,

All I know, All I know, All I knowwww,

Loving you is a losing game."

Their relationship was built off of false love. He never loved her in the way she loved him. She didn't deserve that. Nobody does. She doesn't blame him, though. You can't stop feelings from crawling into your soul. You can't help who you fall for, even if it hurts people. So, she doesn't blame him.

It still hurts, though.

Kaliyah slowly walked up to the front desk of the hospital, a woman telling her the direction of George's room after a brief conversation. She made her way to the elevator, and once it opened, she hesitated. She thought about turning back, turning around and leaving this town. Abandoning everything she worked so hard for. She wasn't like that, though. Kaliyah needed to know the outcome of the relationship, even though she already knew the answer. It was always a losing game loving Clay. In some part of her, deep down, she always knew they were doomed for heartbreak, but she still let herself fall. She let herself go; she let herself care. She was thankful for Dream. He made her learn to love again. She will always be thankful for that, but she was done losing. She was going to win one day, and that needed to happen without Clay being her love. 

Just friends was enough.

She inhaled a deep breath and stepped into the elevator. She pressed the button leading her to heartbreak and waited for it to land. Kaliyah hated giving up, she was always a fighter. But, it's time, it has been for a while. They both needed to breath, and to do that they needed to detach from each other.

The girl who was tied to devastation walked through the silver elevator doors and turned to the left. Her eyes were already showing hurt, yet she hadn't even uttered a word to the blond boy yet. She was ready, though. They both needed this. She pushed her anxiety to the side as she approached the room where Clay waited patiently for George to suddenly wake up. Her heart broke a bit more when she peered down at the floor to see Clay lying on the cold floor, shivering from the cool air blasting through the vents. Sweat was slowly dripping down his forehead, his mouth shaped in a way that showed fear and hurt. He was cracking and she could tell, but she wasn't going to back down on her plan. She wouldn't just sit and watch him suffer, though.

Kaliyah walked up to the boy and sat down, moving his sweat-drenched hair out of his eyes. Clay shot up from the sudden touch, flinching when he first laid his eyes on his girlfriend. His shoulders quickly relaxed when he saw the familiar face of Kaliyah, but his face drew concern as soon as he peered into her eyes. Kaliyah's eyes showed heart break, sorrow, hurt, worry, basically all of the negative emotions you could think of. He could tell he was in for a ride.

"Clay...," Kaliyah stated in a empathetic tone. Clay already knew what she was going to say.

"I know, I know. I'm a mess and I am so sorry for just abandoning you. You deserve so much better than my messed up self and I wish you knew how much I cared. I care so much for you, Kaliyah. It's just with everything going on right now-," Clay dazed off before getting interrupted. 

"I know, Clay. I know."

The couple stared into each other's eyes, tears on the verge of spilling from the both of them. This conversation, which had barely started, was already tearing the two to shreds. They cared so much about each other, but they were bound to end eventually. They were destined to be friends, and nothing more. The silence told their story; it was deafening. 

"Clay, I love you so much, but I think we love each other in different ways. We love each other, but you-," Kaliyah struggled to get the words out as a tear finally managed to escape her dread-filled eyes. Clay put a hand on her shoulder and urged her to continue, his eyes softening at Kaliyah's tone.

"You love me like a sister, and I know you might deny it, but I can see it in your eyes, Clay. The way you used to look at me compared to the way you do now? It is completely different. The way I want you to see me, you see in George," Kaliyah stuttered as she glanced towards the brunette lying unconscious right beside them. A singular tear fell onto Clay's cheeks as he comprehended the words. She was right. He loved George in a way that was different from Kaliyah. He hated himself for hurting her.

"I- I'm s-so so-sorry," Clay barely managed to get out before bursting into tears and falling into Kaliyah's arms. The girl also teared up, seeing the broken blond collapse in front of her. They loved each other, and they always will love each other.

Just not in the way they first expected.

"It-It's o-okay, C-Clay," Kaliyah sputtered out, stuttering through the mess of tears. The conversation ended there as the two held each other, tears slowly starting to fall less often, coming to a complete stop eventually. The only noise in the room was the sniffles from the couple, and every so often a shirt would rub against the other to find a more comfortable position. The embrace lasted about an hour, seeing as when one looked at the other in the eyes they would burst into tears again. It was hard, losing who you once thought was your soulmate, but it was for the best. They would always be friends, no matter what.

It just hurt that they would never be more.

(2100 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 30k words officially for the story!!! also long chapter pog love you guys<3


	25. surreal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> im sorry in advance HBDFKJLDW PLS DONT BE MAD

It has officially been two and a half months since George was last awake.

Alex had started coming more often, now going every day for 2-3 hours each day. There was basically no hope left for the case of George Davidson, so he wanted to soak in all of the moments before the doctors gave up on the brunette. Quackity had already started on planning the funeral beforehand, since if George ever was pronounced braindead, he wouldn't have to choke through sobs and invite the few people left who cared to a gathering of death. He had decided it would be best if it was just himself, his parents, and Clay and potentially Kaliyah. Well, that was until he found out what had happened between the two. She still offered to be there for him, though. After everything the blond had done to her, after all the pain of watching your love fall for another, she still wanted to be there for him. She was too good for this world. 

As for Clay, he started going less often to the hospital. The area he had memorized now had been draining his mental, emotional, and physical health for months. He needed a break. A break from the hospital, a break from reality, a break from everything. He went to the hospital about once a week, now, for maybe 2 hours. Clay had less than an ounce of hope left, not nearly the hope he had when this whole situation happened. He still had the nightmares that creeped upon the blond at night, and each time, he did something different. Sometimes he would chase after the man who had caused all of this, chase the villain. Sometimes, he still tried to rescue the miserable slim figure named George, still tried to save him. Alas, his attempts never prevailed. All it did was cause realization to strike the blond that nothing would ever work. Most of the time, though, he just sat and sobbed. Sat in sorrow for all he had lost. He lost his chance at true love, because of two vehicles colliding. It hurt knowing he never even got to see a sliver of light, a sliver of hope that they could be together and live happily ever after. Life wasn't a fairytale, though, and it never will be. Life only causes mass destruction and pain throughout the lives of many. 

It seems easier to let everything go, to be free. 

But, he had people to live for. He had to live for Kaliyah and for Alex and for Nick. 

Now that he thinks about it, Dream hasn't talked to Sapnap in ages. The last time they had spoken was when Clay had informed the hazel-haired boy about the crash. He never saw Sapnap visit, it was as if he didn't even care.

He did, though.

Every single day, while Clay was fast asleep dreaming about the nightmare that had become a reality, Sapnap came to check up on the blond and George. He mainly came to check up on Dream, though. He never got close with George, but he knew that the brunette meant so, so much to Clay. He knew by the way he looked at him if he ever arrived early. The longing inside of his emerald eyes, the passion burning from within. It was all too familiar to Nick, but that wasn't important. It hurt seeing how the crash had taken such a toll on both the unfamiliar boy who wore a beanie and his best friend. Their eyes showed exhaustion and pain. Their figures showed fatigue and stress. Their forced smiles showed nervousness and anxiety. They both looked horrified at what the probable outcome was, and it hurt. It hurt knowing there was nothing he could do to drain the pain out of both of their systems. It truly and utterly did sting.

But, there was nothing he could do about it now. So all he could do was hope. He had to hope for the slightest probability that George's heart would continue beating on and his brain would activate. He had to hope for a nearly-impossible outcome.

Nearly is the key word.

_________________

George's eyes bolted open to see the all-too familiar hospital room. The smell was the classic vanilla, while everything looked the same. It looked normal.

Something felt off, though. He couldn't quite pinpoint what yet.

He searched around the room, wincing at the strain of turning his head. Everything seemed to hurt. His once pale body was now stained with black, blue, and purple shapes all over. His ankle was hidden by a bright white cast while being elevated. He was wearing the classic white hospital gown and he could barely move any limb attached to his body. He was struggling to move, and his chest ached every time he took a breath, but he was alive. That was all that mattered. 

George looked around the room, dazed, as his eyes landed on his familiar best friend who always wore a beanie. He looked shell-shocked as if he had just seen a ghost. His lips parted at the sudden interaction, but they soon turned into a bright smile as he dashed toward the brunette, careful not to hurt him. Tears were brimming Alex's eyes; happy couldn't even describe what he was feeling right now. Everything felt surreal, as if it was all a dream. 

Emotions overwhelmed the two boys, but the brunette struggled to speak because of the damage the crash had done to his body. His head ached slightly from the amount of lights that filled the room, but he didn't mind. George was just happy he was alive, for once. He could see his best friends, one last time. But, one was missing. Where was Clay?

Just as he was about to attempt to utter the question, a doctor walked into the room, also shocked at the sight. It was a medical miracle, yet no one was complaining. Everything felt lighter, in a sense. There was only one question thought still looming in the back of George's brain.

Where was Dream?

It didn't matter at the time, though. Soon enough, he was engulfed into a light enough hug where it wouldn't cause more pain the to brunette, but still the thought is what counted. They were reunited at last. Everything was perfect at that moment. Everything just felt like the storm has past. 

Little did anyone know, the storm was yet to arrive.

______________

George had to stay in the hospital for another week for the doctors to do a rundown of the injuries. He had to plan out where he was going to be staying and who would help him and when. Quackity now visited every single day, staying the night once or twice, not letting any moment slip between his fingers. He savored every single sweet second he had with George, not wanting to let him go again. Yet, Clay still was no where to be seen. Had he abandoned George? Did he really not care at all about the brunette? Did he have no shred of love for George?

George shuttered at the thoughts, pushing them aside every time they tried to enter his mind. He was glad Quackity was happy, and he also was happy when the thoughts didn't intrude. George wasn't going to waste another second of his life dwelling over the people of his past. He was going to focus on the present, and focus on being happy again. The only thing George wanted in life was to be happy, just for a day. He wanted everything to be easier. Was that too much to ask?

That could very well be too much to ask for.

______________

As soon as the cool air hit George's face, a smile blossomed. He was happy to be free again. He was wearing the classic favorite: His sky blue hoodie that was embroided with the numbers 404 and some black sweats. The comfortable outfit made him feel safe. It made him feel as if nothing could happen to him. He felt invincible at that moment. It was nice. 

All nice things must come to an end eventually, though. 

George thought it was best to surprise Clay at his apartment, where he assumed the blond would be. He got a lift from Quackity to the apartment complex and bid farewell to his best friend. He grabbed the crutches and hobbled over to the door. He pressed the button which read the room number and waited for a voice from the family that he could enter from the robotic machine.

It never came.

Odd was the only way to describe everything that was happening. Unsettlement creeped in George's stomach, resting comfortably on his heart. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he waited one last minute to hear the familiar voice of Clay, or even Drista. No one seemed to answer, but as he turned around to leave and search for a ride back home, a noise came from behind him. It was the sound of a door hinge cracking, signaling the glass entrance was open. George was puzzled, complexed at how the doors opened, but nonetheless, he stepped through the doors without hesitance. 

Peach scents filled the lobby of the apartment building. The place almost looked abandoned. No people could be found, the only sound occupying George's ears were the creaks of when he shifted his weight. Something was off.

What was it, though?

He shook the thought away and made his way, slowly, towards the elevator. George pushed the button to signal to the machinery what floor to drop him off at and simply waited for the elevator doors to open.

As soon as the silver doors slid away to reveal the familiar hallways, George hobbled out, putting most of his body weight on his crutches. His head turned towards the direction where he remembered the simple, yet elegant apartment being and made his way towards the door. There was still only creeks of footsteps filling the empty hallways. It was a ghost town; it was very unsettling. 

George pushed away the feelings, though, as he approached the room number. He stood near the door, an unfamiliar stench filling his nostrils. He nearly gagged in disgust at the nasty scent, but continued on. He noticed the door was the slightest bit cracked open, leaving George with an eerie feeling. Why was the door already open?

George closed his eyes and tried to calm his nerves down. His gut was telling him not to go in, but curiosity overpowered it. He needed to know what had happened in the room, if anything had even happened. It was probably just his imagination anyway. He was just imagining that something was wrong; it wasn't like he hadn't done it before. 

George pushed away his thoughts and opened the door, instantly regretting everything. He dropped his crutches as tears instantly flowed down his cheeks. He screamed in agony, every emotion overwhelming his senses. The physical pain didn't matter anymore, as George dropped to his knees in pure pain. His head was filled with intrusive thoughts as his face became more flushed by the second. Everything had happened so quickly; it felt like a fever dream. Nothing felt real. 

(MAJOR TW SU!CIDE)

There, in front of the brunette, was Clay, hanging by a rope that was hung from the ceiling. His neck was bruised from the rope burning his skin, and his eyes were closed. He was clearly not breathing. 

Clay was dead.

By his own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY AGAINGJVHBKJNKML DONT BE MAD BUT THE STORY ISN'T OVER YET THERES STILL HOPE


	26. too familiar

George's dark chocolate eyes shot open, his mind dazed. He couldn't comprehend what had just happened, let alone what is now happening. He peered around the room, recognizing the bland details and the soft noises filling his surroundings.

He was back in the hospital.

The faint scent of plain vanilla filled the cool air while white walls surrounded the brunette. The same old room, the same old slots, the same old chairs. Everything was how it should be. Maybe, just maybe, what had happened, was all just a nightmare. It was a false reality, trying to scare George out of imminent death.

If that is what happened, it sure did work.

George noticed the deafening silence that attacked his soul with anxiety. His body ached, begged for freedom from the pain. His ankle was covered with a bright white cast while being elevated by a fluffed pillow.He peered down at his arms that would not budge from their positions, only to find the same speckles of cool colors dotting them. His brain pounded against his skull sending whimpers to escape George's chapped lips. He was in so much pain, yet he was still alive.

And for once, he was grateful to be alive.

______________

Quackity heard the soft sounds, barely above a whisper, coming out of his best friend's mouth. As soon as he did, he bolted his head around that was facing towards the door way and his eyes widened. George's eyes were wide open, his body slightly shivering. His mouth looked to be quivering, yet as soon as they locked eyes, the scared look that was lying on his face turned into joy. George was alive, and nothing could make this moment better. 

Quackity quickly stumbled over to the injured boy and his excitement was shining through. Anyone from a mile away could practically see the smile beaming from the teenager. His best friend was actually alive, and it wasn't another hallucination. It was real, and it felt amazing. 

Alex practically engulfed George into a hug, being careful not to injure the already-fragile George. They were both trying to stay strong and not shed a tear at the happiness bursting from the seams. Everything felt right at that moment. Everything felt okay.

Then a thought occurred to George, dimming the mood.

"Where is Clay?

Alex shrugged his shoulders, sending chills down George's spine. Quackity could see the visible discomfort radiating off of the brunette and quickly sat next to him and rubbed circles on his back, careful not to hurt him. 

"I'm sure he's okay-,"

Just as Alex was about to speak his words of comfort, a familiar blond practically bursted through the doors to the room. He abruptly stopped as soon as he saw those chocolate eyes he always seemed to be fond of. The mocha eyes, the library of untold stories, the perfect imperfection. 

The world seemed to still as Clay glanced around the room, searching for a sign that this wasn't a dream. George was awake, and it was real. It wasn't just another dream, it wasn't a false reality based off of fear, it was reality. And it shocked Dream, in the best way possible.

The blond almost dropped to the floor, happiness and relief overflowing his system, as he dropped his phone and ran to the brunette. Nothing could describe this moment other than the best possible memory. It was a day the three boys would remember forever until the day they all died. They were all reunited, even if it was just for a moment, just for a second. They were all happy, and nothing could have broken the bond that was created that day. There would have to be an inescapable force, dragging them apart, only one of themselves could create. 

They all hoped that none would succumb to that darkness and forfeit in the wild game of life. 

But, most of the time, hope is not good enough. Hope isn't enough to stop the inevitable outcome of their stories. For some cases, they drown out the pain and fear, and live life to the fullest. They live every day like it's their last, and drive away the suffering that would lurk around their door step. 

For most cases, though... they can't escape the horrible feelings that would drain out all of their happiness from their hurting souls. Their stomachs churned from the built up anger, the pent up sadness that they couldn't let out in the past. Their emotional walls blocked them until their breaking point, and they shattered. Death had won, it was game over. It was an unfortunate ending, but it was what was meant to happen. 

That's most cases, though. Not all.

_______________

George, Clay, and Alex spent the rest of the night just talking. Reminiscing on old memories, telling stupid stories, letting banter fly effortlessly through the air. Dream's light wheezes sent everyone into a laughing fit, causing eruptions of joy to overwhelm the three. It hurt to laugh, but George didn't care. He would break his ribs, again and again, to experience this day again. It was such a happy day, and nothing could break them apart.

"Wanna watch the news?" Alex suggested after his fit of giggles, mostly as sarcasm because who watches the news but the two others nodded in agreement. He turned the television on to find a news reporter, a woman around the age of 40, speaking into a microphone. She was standing near their neighborhood, surprisingly. She was talking about a different car crash, which triggered George's reflexes to flash and nearly punch Dream. He briefly apologized to the blond before turning his head back to the news, zoning into her words.

"There was another car crash today in the neighborhood of Rosefelt(idk if I named the town yet so i'll probably just change the name if I ever mention it again LMAOAO). No one has passed away, but the family members consisting of 4 in the red Subaru are all in the hospital seeking medical treatment. This will be classified as a hit and run. The other car was a slick, black Ford Fusion. The person driving this vehicle was a man, well over the age of 40. He had dark brown hair, slicked back to reveal his forehead. He had a small beard and he wore a maroon hoodie. He had a tattoo on his neck. Apparently, it was of a tidal wave crashing onto a beach. That is all of the information we have discovered, so keep your eyes out, and stay safe."

No. It can't be.

Quackity soon discovered the horror that sat on George's face, his body trembling in petrification, as if he had just gotten struck by lightning. 

"Hey, what's wrong dude?" Quackity questioned with worry. George could barely even process what was happening. His breaths were getting harder to produce as panic soon overtook the joyus moments that were happening meer minutes ago. Everything had happened in an instant. 

George barely managed to mutter the next few words as his face still shined with terror.

"I think... I think the person who caused the crash...," George paused before taking a deep breath and continuing. 

"I know that person."

Both Clay and Quackity were confused, yet worried at the same time. How did George know the person from that small description?

"It sounds a little too familiar to my father."

(1285 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter sorry:( BUT AT LEAST CLAY IS ALIVE WOOOO


	27. unexpected visitor

(TW implied su!cidal thoughts)

"It sounds a little too familiar to my father."

Both of the other's eyes widened as realization struck their guts. Dream didn't know much about George's home life, but he could infer while looking back at the past. George didn't kill his sister, a random stranger wouldn't make sense, so it must have been his father. Quackity had already known about George's family life since he came back and he spilt his story to him. They didn't realize it was this bad though.

George shook with fear, just trembling at the word 'father' slipping off of his tongue. He didn't even want to think about the chance that his father was back in town. His father, the murderer that killed his sister, abused him when he was a meer child, caused a car crash that harmed not only himself, but a family. He knew his father was a horrible person ever since he was a little kid, but he never knew it would get this bad. It hurt knowing that he descended from an abuser, a murderer at that.

George's biggest fear is that he will turn out like his father.

He will turn into a murderer, that's his biggest fear.

If he ever turns out like that? He will never be able to live with himself. 

______________

Clay and Alex processed the information slowly, trying to understand how someone could do that to not only a family who did NOTHING to him, but his own daughter. Possibly even his own son too. George was shaking, sweat dripping down his forehead as his panic failed to subside. Everything went south so quickly, it was as if the fun memories of the day had never even happened. It felt like a nightmare had taken over their once happy dream, filling the hospital room with dread. 

George's reasons to live were getting slimmer and slimmer; He was barely hanging on by a thread. His father is back, His feelings for the already-taken Dream keep climbing higher into his heart--well, he thinks he's still taken--, he can barely handle walking one step because of the aches that spread across his body. The brunette is willing, no. He is wanting to give his life, just to be happy again. He has been through so much; No one should ever have to deal with what the boy has dealt with. It's hard to keep hoping for things to get better when they never do. 

But, he had to live, for just a bit longer. He couldn't die with all of the information he held; he needed closure. Closure about his mother and father, closure about Clay, closure about everything. He seeked for his soul to be fulfilled, he craved for his journey to end. He was tired.

Alas, he needed to stay. Not only for Clay and Alex, but for himself.

That didn't mean he didn't want to end his story, though. 

______________

Clay's mind was fried from the thoughts scattering his soul. He had so much to process and so much to think about that it almost suffocated him. George's father, the one who murdered his love's sister, was back in town, just to cause havoc. The only feeling that could be described that was building inside of the blond was enragement. How could someone do that to his own flesh and blood? It was sickening to even think about how much pain has been caused to George by his own father. 

But, there was nothing anyone could do to stop the mad man. All they could do was hope. Hope that someone would catch the sick murderer known as George's father, hope for a day of peace, a day of tranquility.

Hope never meant anything, though, when it came to the impossible.

As George was lying down, letting a mixture of feelings consume his soul, a knock was heard upon the door. All three of the boys were confused, giving each other puzzled expressions as they turned towards the door. Alex was the first to stand up, unveiling to door to see a doctor in a white coat standing there. His face held no expressions, he looked emotionless. I guess that is what doctors are supposed to look like, though.

"Are you George Davidson?" The man questioned to the brunette lying in the bed, his body slowly healing from the crash.

"Yeah, I am. Why?" George and the other two boys were struggling to understand what was happening.

"You have a visitor."

Everyone, including George himself, was confused. It was not as if anyone who cared about George wasn't in the room already. Who could it possibly be-

George's jaw dropped to the floor in an instant, tears threatening to spill. He recognized everything about the person's features. How could he forget his awful nightmare that had happened oh so long ago? 

The room felt as if it was closing, George's vision blurring from the tears. He could barely mutter words, everyone staring at him in concern.

Standing in front of the three boys was a middle-aged woman, maybe slightly above the age of 40, looking down at the boy with eyes that held tears of regret and sorrow. Her hair was a heel brown, messy to say the least. Her figure was slim, almost like a replica of the boy in the hospital bed. George choked out a few words as his breaths tried to steady and become even.

'M- mom?"

(977 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the VERY short chapter and the delay:( my mental health is really just declining atm so I needed a bit of a break. The updates will definitely come at a slower pace now so I can focus on my health and my grades. Thank you for all of the nice comments and thanks for 900 views<3


	28. the conversation

"M- mom?"

George looked frightened, like he had just seen a ghost of his past--which he kind of did. His mother who abandoned him at not even 10 years old, was back to witness him surviving off of the air in the hospital while bruises seemed to be endlessly climbing upon his skin. His body was a fragile mess, while his emotions were also scrambled from the overwhelming sense of fear that struck his core. 

While George was struggling to comprehend the amount of things that were happening, Dream took notice. He never knew what had happened to George's mother, but she was here now, standing in front of her bed-ridden son.

He couldn't decipher the emotions on the brunette's face to be fear or joy.

Clay walked over to the boy he loved, his hand scratching the back of his neck in anxiousness. He had no clue how to react, but he knew he had to calm George down somehow. The only thing he could think of, at that moment, was to take the smaller figure by the hand and trace circles with his thumb on the smaller hand. Their fingers meshed together like perfect puzzle pieces, like they were meant to be sewn together for life. 

But that didn't matter at the moment.

All that mattered was George, and his mother who abandoned him was standing in front of the group. 

"George?" His mother spoke with tears spilling out of her eyes, which seemed to hold deep regret for her past decisions. There were so many emotions filling the tense air and it was very... unsettling to say the least.

George couldn't decide on whether to be upset or not. Should he get straight into it and ask why she left? Should he greet her? What the hell should he do? Words were struggling to escape his lips as his mouth decided to stay shut as his body shivered at the cool air flowing through the vents. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" Quackity questioned with confusion, a bit of anger peeking through his tone. He knew everything that had happened to George, so when he saw his mother, fury coursed through his veins. She had the audacity to come back and visit his son, only when he was on the brink of death? That is messed up.

"I- I'm s- sorry I can g- go if George w- wants," The woman stuttered as she choked through tears. George was also teary eyed, but he was trying to be stern. He shouldn't let his mother just crawl back into his life, should he?

"Clay, Alex, c- could you let me and my m- m- mother talk? P- please?"

This response shocked all four that were in the room, including George himself. 

"Are you sure?" Alex glanced at George with a worried expression drawn all over his face, but then glared back to the woman standing in the room, in which she had her lips parted in shock and her eyes were widened. 

George nodded at his best friend and turned towards Clay, who still had his hand interlocked with his own. His heart melted at the touch, but he couldn't show it. He had feelings that weren't relevant, and they never would be relevant. The blond would never feel the same, and George had to learn to move on. He had to learn to heal.

That didn't matter now, though. His mother was standing in the room, waiting to have a conversation with him.

George gave one last nod of approval to his two best friends, his real family, and they left the room with worried expressions. The boys shut the door to give the pair their privacy, and as soon as they did, George broke down. All the tears that were being forced inside of his system spilled out, all the broken memories came flooding back. His mother watching him being beat by their father, his sister and mother leaving him to fend for himself, his sister dying, the car crash, every sad memory that he had pushed away was back. And it sucked. 

His mother stood there, hesitating whether to comfort her own flesh and blood. She didn't know if it would help or make it worse, but she didn't care. She just wanted her son to feel better, to be better than her. 

She quickly--well, kind of quickly-- walked to the edge of the hospital bed and wrapped her arms around the injured brunette. George quickly melted into the touch, and sobbed into her shoulders. Not only was he a touch starved, depressed teenager with parental issues, he was scared. He was scared she would just up and leave again once she figured out everything. He was scared his father would waltz back into his life once he found him again. He was scared of everything, including himself. 

That didn't matter, though.

All that mattered was George and that his mother was back. Was it permanent? George still didn't know. 

______________

"The doctors called me, and- and they told me that you were in a coma... and they told me that- that you would most likely be brain dead by the- by the time I got here," Helena, George's mother, explained through broken sniffles. George struggled to comprehend the words, but it was okay. At least she was here now, right? 

George nodded at the explanation, still not having said a word to his mother during this whole conversation. He was frightened that he would scare her away with his words. He lost his mother once, he won't lose her again. 

But he needed to ask a question that would risk everything.

He was willing to gamble everything to receive an answer. 

"Why did you leave without me..?" George's voice was barely above a whisper, nearly voice-cracking at every word. Helena's heart broke at his tone along with the words. She never wanted to leave her own son... but she had to. For her and Callie's own good. 

"You know your father and how he could get, George. I didn't- I never wanted to- to leave you-," She paused to try and steady her breaths, closing her eyes to block the tears from escaping. She didn't want sympathy; she didn't deserve sympathy. All she wanted to do was explain.

And now she had a chance to do it. But she was afraid.

Was she really willing to risk her son once again just to explain her past behaviors?

"I never wanted to leave you, George. But, at that time, I knew you could withstand your father. Maybe not at that moment, but I had a gut feeling that you would grow up and learn to defend yourself, learn to heal. I didn't know whether me or Callie would be able to, but I knew you would. Plus, there was barely enough money to pass around for one of us, but I wouldn't abandon both of my children. I- I'm so sorry, and I know it seemed like I favored your sister, but I didn't. I thought what I thought would be the best for Callie and you. Does- Does that make sense?"

No, it didn't make sense. 

But George wasn't going to go around and say that. In a sense, he got it. He got why she trusted her gut, he got why she brought his sister with her instead of him, he understood why she did it.

Her gut was wrong, though. George couldn't handle it.

But it was okay, right?

Everything was okay, at that moment. 

Everything was okay, everything is okay, right?

Wrong. 

(1308 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for 1100 reads besties<3 love u all and drink some water and eat something if you haven't already:)) sorry this was also kinda rushed ahaha


	29. too much to ask

(Clay's pov)

(TW violence, blood)

Time seemed to slow to a stop.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Alex and him were just standing outside of the hospital room in which George was talking to his mother(who, let's not forget, abandoned him). They were waiting for the signal to go back into the room, waiting to check that everything was okay. And, everything was okay.

At the moment.

And then, the hurricane hit.

An unfamiliar man approached the hospital doors. His shoulders were broad, threatening someone to make the first punch. His thick, dark brown hair was slicked back to uncover his forehead, which was painted with creases of aggression. It was as if the figure was searching for someone, hunting for someone to ruin. He was unfamiliar, leaving a looming, dark feeling in the pit of the blond's stomach. 

Then he noticed the smallest detail that made realization and horror strike his guts.

On the neck of the man, was a tattoo that looked like a riptide, or an ocean wave, crashing onto a beach. The same tattoo that was carved onto the neck of the person who caused the family car crash.

The same tattoo that was drawn into the skin of George's father.

His abusive father.

Fuck.

Clay's emerald eyes slowly drowned in fear as the now-familiar figure strided towards the room, confidence lacing his steps. Alex had left to the cafeteria to get something to eat, so all the people that were near to stop the beast of George's father, was no one beside himself. 

Was he really bold enough, was he really that deep in love, to risk his own life for George?

He didn't have enough time to think, because by the time he had made his decision the man had already approached the teenage with an evil (I SPELT IT RIGHT) spark gleaming in his eyes. They were a dark blue, nearly navy, which would usually appeal to the average human. But Clay saw the evil, he saw the darkness buried within the other's soul. 

George's father was smirking, almost knowing that he would beat Clay to a pulp if he even thought about getting in his way. Clay could tell from the muscles that were bulging through the man's black t-shirt that was engraved with a skull that he would instantly lose in a fight. He was scared, but he wasn't going to let yet another murder take place in front of his own eyes.

Even if it killed him. 

"Mind if I pass?" George's father asked in a stern tone, nearly scaring Clay. His voice was sharp and deep, and it could cut through your soul like a knife. The tension in the air ran thick, yet the glares of the older man could cut through it. It was painful and frightening, but Clay had to stand up for the person he cared about most.

He was willing to lose it all for George.

"Actually, yes I do mind, and so does the guy inside. So if you can kindly step away and go somewhere else that would just be fantastic," Dream replied with a snarky tone as confidence began to rise. He picked up his slumped shoulders and stood as tall as he could, trying to prove that he could take a hit.

"Funny you say that, cause I wasn't asking," George's father snarled as he pushed Clay away from the door with force, nearly causing Clay to fall to the floor. It sure startled the blond, but he wasn't going to give up that easily.

Clay stood up swiftly and blocked the door once again, causing a death glare to get sent his way. The man's eyes showed no mercy; they showed the craving, the need for blood to be drawn. The tension grew higher in the air; people from miles away could sense it. Stares from oblivious souls were being sent their way, but that didn't matter.

All that mattered, was George. 

"Move."

The tone, the word, just the presence of the older man alone sent shivers down Clay's soul. 

"I said-," Clay's tone was stern and confident, but on the inside, he was crumbling at each second that passed.

Before the blond got to finish his sentence, a fist as fast as a bullet connected with Dream's jaw, causing waves of pain to soar through Clay's face. The thick, red liquid oozed down Dream's cheeks. Clay put a finger towards the spot where the hand had connected, feeling a warm substance dripping down his skin. It stung to touch, everything seemed to blur, just for a moment.

But Dream was a fighter. He would never forgive himself if he gave up that easily.

Clay stood up with a bit of a wobble, but put his fists up, ready to swing. He quickly pulled his hand back and packed as much force as he could into the older man's face. George's father hobbled back, shocked at the power that Clay withheld. Blood was dripping down both of their faces now, hatred gleaming in both of their eyes.

Doctors quickly separated the two men, but their arms were not enough force to keep the older man in lock. He pushed through the doctors with ease and basically tore the door off of it's hinges, spotting his ex-wife and their failure of a son talking.

Shit was about to go down.

______________

(George's pov)

George laid in his bed, his pain medication taking effect on his body. Contentment, joy, either way George felt better than he had in a long time. Even though he didn't entirely forgive his mother, he would learn to heal. He was just glad she was back.

And, of course, Clay.

His mind wouldn't stop reeling thoughts about the blond back into George's mind. How his emerald, forest-like eyes shimmered in the yellow rays that consumed the sky, how his hair plopped onto his head perfectly, a bit messy, which George absolutely adored. Clay was the definition of perfection to George.

Thump.

A sound like someone crashing to the ground alerted George's ears; it was coming from the outside.

Where Clay and Alex were.

Where his family was.

Fuck.

George and his mother tensed up at the noises coming from the outside as their smiles quickly faded from their faces. they had been happy, for just a moment. Everything had seemed okay, for just that second.

But... Nothing comes easy to George.

The door opened, practically breaking at the hinges. Everyone froze, the walls nearly breaking at the tension. Cuts ran through the man's face, blood dripping to the tiled floor, staining it with the maroon liquid. The figure was undeniably recognizable. The slicked back hair, the navy blue eyes, the broad shoulders... the tattoo. 

George's father quickly laid his eyes on Helena and shoved her out of the way, sending her frail figure to the floor in seconds. Her eyes were as widened as they could be from the shock and the pain, causing a quiet sound of hurt to escape her lips. Everything had happened so quickly. Everything fell apart in a matter of meer seconds. 

George was accustomed to that, but that didn't mean it hurt any less. 

Clark's (George's father) hands were quickly pressed around George's throat, causing the air that was flowing to stop. The hands were large and Clark's figure was muscular, showing no signs of leaving anytime soon. George couldn't even choke out words, on the verge of fainting from the lack of oxygen entering his body. 

"You have always meant NOTHING to me. You are such a disappointment to my family's name, and you will NEVER-," Clark paused and leaned closer to George's ear as the brunette tried to choke out breaths. 

"You will never be enough."

That stung. 

Even if it was from a murderer, it still hurt hearing those words from the person who raised you to be who you are. It pierced deep inside of George's heart like an arrow. Every damn day George has struggled with learning how much he's worth. He had to learn that he was enough, he had to heal. And he slowly did with the love from Clay and Alex.

All that hard work, all that dedication, just shattered.

Tears were already flowing through George's eyes and his face had started to turn a pale blue and violet. This wasn't the way George had wanted to go out. He wanted to live, he wanted to be happy, he wanted to love. Now he might not get that chance, all because of his father. A murderer, but nonetheless, family. George had the blood and genes of a killer, and as much as he wanted to change and be different, the chances of that happening were looking slimmer.

George won't get the chance to change his father's mistakes.

It hurt.

More than anything.

All George wanted was a chance to make up for his family's torture, their mistakes. He wanted to turn the tides and be better. He wanted to be better.

Was that too much to ask?

Maybe it was.

(1568 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eat and drink something if you haven't already:) love you guys<3


	30. sparks

Maybe it wasn't too much to ask. 

Black and blue bruises were speckled along George's neck and hand prints stained the skin, yet he was still alive, and that is what mattered. The doctors had gotten a handle of the beast in enough time and they finally sent him to the police station.

He was finally arrested, and George was free of the burdens that came along with his father. Now he didn't have to worry about the legacy of his family's name, he didn't have to worry about his life being taken by his own flesh and blood.

He did still have stuff to worry about, though.

Like his own feelings. His feelings that have only grown for Clay since he figured it out. George has always felt a connection with Quackity, and he loves him like a brother, but it isn't the same love with Clay. It isn't a love like with a sibling, it's more passionate, feels more... more like home. The connection, the lust, everything about it leaves butterflies flying around the brunette's stomach. It leaves his stomach and his mind in knots, but in a good way.

The feelings George has is like the Fourth of July as sparks soar through the air whenever they touch, or whenever they are around each other in general. It's almost like there is this long strip of rope connecting them, always leading them back to each other, bringing them back to their homes. 

George was just worried that if he spilled his feelings, the fireworks would stop. The sparks would dim, and the rope connecting them would snap. He wasn't willing to risk their friendship over feelings that probably weren't even reciprocated.

Or was he?

Dream isn't a dick, so even if the chances of him liking George back were little to none, at least the rejection would be short and sweet. Their friendship probably wouldn't be ruined, right?

Was he really willing to gamble their friendship though?

_______________

It's been a few weeks since George's father attacked, and now the brunette was finally stable enough to leave his practically second home. All three of the boys had memorized the whole hospital starting with the white tiles that lined the floor to the bland rooms that had a scent of vanilla. It was definitely not a good thing, but at least it was something. 

As soon as the glass doors were opened and they stepped out into the cool breeze, the celebrations commenced. Alex was as relieved and happy as ever, practically sprinting around in circles with his arms in the air screaming how relieved he was. George just stood laughing at his best friend, practically his brother now, and also sighed with relief. He was finally out of the hospital; he was finally free. Not only free of the prison that was practically his second home, but also of his father.

George's mother had already had plans on staying for a few weeks, but since her son was awake and thriving, she planed on staying for more than a couple weeks.

She planned on moving to Rosefelt permanently. 

Helena wanted to make up for all of the time she was gone, and even though she knew she couldn't make up for her past mistakes, she wasn't going to give up on her son without a fight. She was going to try.

I guess the 'not giving up' gene was passed down in the family.

George finally had everything he wanted. He had his best friends back, he had his mother back, his father was in prison... he had everything he could have ever wished for.

Mostly.

George couldn't tell if he was being greedy. Was it really selfish to want to be loved, in more ways than just one? George wanted to feel his arms wrapped around another's body in more than a friend way. He wanted to feel needed and appreciated. Was that too much to ask? No, it wasn't.

But, the brunette wanted that love from a specific blond boy. 

Now that?

That might be too much to ask for. 

______________

George got into the passenger seat of Alex's car while Dream sat in the back. Alex was the best driver out of the three, and none of them wanted history to repeat itself, so they chose the shortest to drive. The car was swift, turning the corners smoothly. The houses went by quickly, George's vision not able to comprehend the details of each house. 

George's mind wouldn't stop racing, reeling back the thoughts of his feelings. George clearly wasn't going to get over the feelings anytime soon, seeing as even throughout a COMA they still laid in his heart and soul.

He needed to get it off of his chest, and the only way to do the was telling Clay. It was nerve-wracking, definitely. But it had to be done, and George wasn't going to back out. He has done that enough in his life.

George wasn't going to be scared anymore. 

Even if it costed him.

_______________

All three of the boys stepped out of the car when the car pulled to a stop in Alex's driveway. The house was exactly how George remembered it. The house was simple, just the way George liked it. Admiring the simple things is the thing he was best at.

All three of the teenagers stepped into the house, and as they were about to go up the stairs, George pulled Dream's sleeve. It was too late to back out now.

"Can I talk to you?"

The question that slipped out of the brunette's lips scared both of the boys, but George had a new look on life. He realized how short life can be, and how you shouldn't leave the game of life with regrets. He wasn't going to leave without telling his feelings to the other, because if he didn't, George would just have a burden of another regret on his shoulders. 

Clay was confused, but nodded nonetheless. Worrying thoughts flooded the blond's mind. What did he do now? Did he ruin his chances again at love?

Little did he know, that was the farthest thing that was going to happen.

_____________

George told Quackity that he and Dream had to go to the store really quickly to get some snacks, and as much as Quackity offered to come, George kept denying him. The reason was obvious to George, but it wasn't to the clueless, shorter boy. 

Then it hit Alex. 

It had been so obvious. The way Clay looked at George and longed for him at the hospital, the way George's cheeks had flushed pink when their hand connected at the, again, hospital. It was clear as day that they loved each other, and now they were finally going to admit it.

Hopefully.

Quackity just prayed neither of them would get frightened by the exchange of feelings, he hoped neither of them would push the other away. Alex knew it was easier to push away feelings than to admit them.

He just hoped that their situation wouldn't be the same as his.

______________

George didn't want to talk to Clay about his feelings in either of their homes, so he brought the blond to the best place he knew, the place that has always given George comfort throughout all of the bad times.

The field.

The time was around 7 pm, the scenery a beautiful sunset, like a movie scene. The sky was painted with all of the pink and orange hues, while white, fluffy clouds dusted the sky. It was gorgeous. 

The brunette led Clay into the middle of the comforting field as everything fell into the place. The scenery, the location, everything about this moment felt perfect.

George just hoped he wouldn't ruin it. 

The two sat in the field, as silence that could only be defined as warm filled the air. They both were nervous, their eyes both fixated on their fidgeting fingers. Neither wanted to start the conversation, seeing as only one knew what was happening. One had to start it, and George was tired of being afraid. He was finally ready to be himself and to speak his truth, no matter if it costed him. At least he was being honest with not only Dream, but himself.

"God, this is hard," George muttered under his breath, his eyes still peering at the grass that slightly wiggled as the cool breeze flew around the boys. Clay barely heard the words, but he heard them nonetheless. Every second that seemed to pass felt like hours. Anxiety was the only thing the blond was feeling right now. He really didn't want to lose George. He couldn't afford to lose another person he cared about.

"What's hard, George?"(do not make this sexual.) Clay questioned with a soft tone as his head turned to face the short brunette he loved with all of his heart. 

"Clay, I have to tell you something and I really don't want you to freak out," George started to ramble on about how he didn't want Clay to be scared or mad, and it was worrying. Had George done something wrong? What was going on?

"George, you can tell me," The blond's tone grew softer every word he spoke. Everything about the scenery spoke warm and comforting, but anxiety was the only thing on both of the boys' minds. 

"Promise you won't be mad?" George asked with sincerity, finally turning his head to face his best friend, his soulmate. No matter if this ended badly, he still wanted a friendship with Clay. He could deal with being platonic soulmates.

"I promise."

George paused before going on a rant about all of his feelings.

"Clay, I like you. You mean more to me than anything. You are perfect in every way possible. Your hair, your eyes, your soul, everything about you. This isn't just a school crush anymore. It's more than that. I think I'm in love with you and I just can't shake the feeling that you are going to hate me for this. I-," George's ramble was cut off with something soft and warm connecting with his lips.

Clay's lips.

The kiss felt unreal, just like a movie. Their lips ultimately moved slowly and in sync, sending a warm feeling down both of their souls. Clay's hand snaked to George's waist, pulling him closer, as George's arm slung around the blond's neck. The kiss was nothing less than passionate and warm, it felt so real. It was the perfect moment. Nothing could beat that feeling of happiness and love. 

After a few seconds of their lips being connected, they finally pulled apart for breath, gazing into each other's eyes. They both slowly slipped on a smile as they giggled at each other. What had just happened?

"Oh, by the way, I like you too."

(1865 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE MOMENT WE ALL HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR POGGGG


	31. anniversary gone wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ayup

It's been a month since their magical moment of confession.

Everything had been perfect during their sudden twist of events. They did everything George practically dreamed of. They held hands while walking to the store, giggling about a stupid joke on twitter. They cuddled in a soft, fluffy blanket while watching a horror movie, George's head buried in the covers. They kissed each other before they went to sleep, wishing each other a good night's sleep. They were finally happy, with no interruptions or problems.

For now.

________________

George woke up in Clay's bed, the blond's arm draped over his chest. They fell asleep in each other's arms, and it warmed both of their hearts. George slowly took Clay's arm off of his body, careful not to wake his love up. He peered at the blond's face, admiring each detail.

God, he was perfect.

They were perfect, like a match made in heaven.

After a bit of admiring the beautiful art that is Dream, George got out of his bed and walked to the bathroom with a pep in his step. He quickly turned the knob to turn on the shower, patiently waiting for steam to fill the mirror in the bathroom. He stripped as the steam took over the room and stepped into the burning water that dripped from the shower head. A smile was beaming upon his face as the water steadily hit his figure. His thoughts were for once comforting, just day-dreaming about his relationship with the perfect man. 

George's life was finally getting better, finally getting easier.

For now.

________________

After the steamy shower, George turned off the water and brung the curtains out of his way, stepping out of the tub to dry off and change. He grabbed his towels and dried off his body and put on the following favorite outfit since it was their one month anniversary: A Sky blue tee that was slightly cropped to show a bit of George's bare skin, with a short, white tennis skirt that flowed just before his knees. His hair was in his classic style, swooped to the side in a neat fashion. 

He looked incredible. 

George, before he went back to wake his sound-asleep boyfriend, put on a bit of cherry-red lipstick onto his lips and applied a light shade of pink blush onto his cheeks and nose. He also applied eyeliner, making wings. 

God, was he stunning.

After finishing off his impressive look, he unlocked the bathroom door and stepped into their bedroom. Clay was still sound asleep, quiet snores emerging from his body. The brunette giggled as Clay rolled onto his side and neared the edge of the bed.

Then, the greatest idea entered George's mind.

George creeped his way to the edge of his side of the bed, careful not to make a noise. He crawled onto the bed, making only a tiny creak, which could never wake his boyfriend up. He leaned into the blond's ear, getting ready to scare the living daylights out of him.

"WAKE UP!" George nearly shouted into his ear, scaring the blond off of the bed, a groan of pain escaping Dream's lips. George burst into a fit of hysterics, tearing up as his laughing took over his breathing.

"WHAT THE FUCK GEORGE?" Dream shouted through laughter, before getting a knock from the wall from their neighbors, signaling them to shut up, which only caused more laughter from the boys. Dream stood up and lunged across the bed, grasping George's body. They both were dying of laughter as they wrestled on the bed, their limbs tangled together. Eventually, Dream pinned George down to the bed, their laughter dying down.

Both sighed as they gazed into each other's eyes. Dream hadn't gotten a moment to look at George's look completely. His stunning outfit, his perfect make-up; Jesus he looked good.

"You look...," Dream couldn't even mutter out the words to describe how George looked without looking him up and down.

"Incredible? Oh I know," George said cockily, already knowing Dream was practically drooling over him. Dream rolled his eyes at the sassy remark, but he was still so utterly head-over-heels in love. 

Both of the boys giggled, and then Dream dipped his face closer to his boyfriend and connected their lips. It was a quick, tender kiss, a warm feeling spreading down both of their bodies. Although the kiss was short, it didn't make it any less sweet. 

"You ruined my make-up," George pouted, faking a sad, puppy-eyed look. Dream rolled his eyes once again and rolled off of the brunette and got out of the bed. He grabbed a comfortable outfit: A gray sweatshirt with ripped jeans. 

Dream pulled off his night shirt, revealing his muscular figure that held abs.

"You're hot," George said in a half-joking-half-sexual tone. Dream, once again, rolled his eyes and flipped George off, causing a huff of fake disgust to roll out of George's lips. Dream quickly got changed and grabbed George's hand, dragging him out of the bed. They walked into the living room of the small apartment, their hands still connected. 

They both sat on the small, leather couch that was a shaded a light brown. George grabbed the remote and turned on the television that was standing a few feet away from them. The news woman was on, which sent a wave of unfortunate memories crashing into his mind, but George pushed those thoughts away, not wanting to ruin their anniversary. 

The woman hadn't spoken quite yet, but then she uttered the following words:

"Hello Ladies and gents, we have some very unfortunate news. At the local Rosefelt Prison, there has been a breakout of a prisoner. The criminal who broke out goes by the name of Clark Davidson, and to notice him his unmissable feature is a tattoo of a wave crashing into the beach on his neck. Watch out for Clark everyone, and stay safe! This has been your local news, back to you, Ben!"

The noises from the television immediately paused, Clay having taken the remote and turned the power off. His head swiftly turned towards the brunette, who had a look of horror and shock riding on his face. 

George's father was back, he escaped jail.

The only thing Clark could be after?

George.

George was next.

Fuck.


	32. miracles

George's breath hitched at the familiar name he dreaded hearing. His father escaped prison, and the only reason why Clark wanted to escape the dump was to go back into his murdering ways and finish off his family.

Clark wanted to kill George once and for all, and he wasn't going to stop until he got granted his wish.

George felt like he was drowning. The flood of memories and worries rushing through his mind, clawing at his skin. It was too much in too little time. Everything had happened so fast, and he couldn't do anything to stop it. He wasn't nearly powerful enough to even touch his father, let alone defend himself. 

If Clay wasn't strong enough to defeat Clay, there was no way George even stood a chance.

It frightened him. The brunette was usually never afraid of danger because he never actually valued his life before. Now that he had actual people who care, he had reasons to live. He valued his life for once, and his father was going to strip that away from him, just like he did with Callie. Clark has taken everything from George, flipped his world upside down, and he still relentlessly goes after George, not caring about blood anymore. 

It hurts seeing your family drown in a wave of anger and alcohol.

The worst part is, he has tried to fix his messed up father. He has tried to get him to go to Alcoholics Anonymous, tried getting Clark to sober up, tried getting his father to be an actual Father. He has failed every time, and it stings.

Now he is fearing for his life, waiting for Clark to pounce on him and take his last breath, strip him away from the one thing that has saved him and the one thing that actually makes sense in this horrible game of life.

Clark is stripping George of his chance at love.

His chance at a normal life now falling apart, because of his father. 

His chance at gaining his happiness back drained, because of his father.

Everything bad that has happened to George was because of his father.

George cannot catch a break, and it not only is tearing him to shreds, it's also breaking Clay apart. Dream has to sit and watch his love in constant fear, worry, and pain, and it pains him to think that there is nothing he can do. He fought the despicable man once, and lost. There is no reason to believe that that won't happen again. 

It scares both of the boys just thinking about what might happen to George if Clark finds him.

"George, listen to me. It will be okay, okay? Even if Clark somehow manages to find you, I will never, EVER let him even lay a finger on you alright?" By the time Clay assured George of his safety, the brunette's head was already buried into his neck, tears seemingly endless. 

George couldn't even speak. He felt like the walls were closing in and everything was falling apart. To be honest, everything was falling apart.

Tears seemed to fly out of George's hazel eyes while his head was buried in the crook of the blond's neck. They were embracing as tight as ever, both of them praying to any god that they would be safe, and they would be able to survive, together. 

They just hoped everything would be okay.

But if it wasn't, they needed to make a few calls.

______________

"Hey Alex," George spoke through the phone in a shaky tone(ayo rhyme part two). George's tears may have slowed to a stop, but that didn't mean the panic went away. If anything, it only continued to rise as the day went on.

"I saw the news. Jesus are you and Clay okay?" Alex said in an almost hurried voice, worry clear as day.

"We're fine for now but uh- just in- in case anything were to happen-," George stuttered before getting interrupted.

"Nothing is going to happen, but god if anything did happen, I would shatter every bone in his body because he would NEVER, and I mean NEVER get away with killing my best friend. You are practically my brother, George. I won't let the most important person in my life go down by the hands of his own flesh and blood."

That statement, as much as it warmed George's heart, it also petrified him as reality sent in. There was no way to escape his inevitable doom. He was going to get murdered by his father one way or another. 

All George could do was live his last moments of life to the fullest, and pray for a miracle.

God, they really needed a miracle.

(846 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the short filler:( please eat and drink something if you haven't already! love you guys<3


	33. cracks

(TW mention of death)

It's been a week since the news was spread around Rosefelt.

George's nerves have calmed down a bit, seeing as his father hadn't torn him to pieces already. They aren't necessarily gone for good, though. It's like they took a vacation, left for a while.

Only for a while, though.

They came back with as much force as a wrecking ball once George saw the striking, undeniable father figure out of the window. Clark was standing as menacingly as ever at the door to the apartment building, seemingly scanning his surroundings for any sign of his son. 

George was as good as dead if they let Clark inside the building. The worst part was that he changed his looks so no one would recognize him. Clark's hair wasn't slicked back anymore, now fully covering his forehead. It was also a slightly lighter shade of brown. His hood was pulled up over his face, and overall, you wouldn't be able to tell who he was unless you knew him personally.

George knew him too personally. 

Panic took over the apartment. Clay was out trying to find a new job, while his mother was at her workspace and Drista was at School. Clay's older sister had officially moved in with her girlfriend, so George was left alone in the apartment.

No one was expecting Clark to just randomly appear, though. 

George grabbed his phone with his shaky hands and dialed Alex's number. The phone kept ringing. One ring, two rings, three rings, four. Sent to voicemail. Where the hell was Alex?

That didn't matter right now, though.

All that mattered, was George.

George dropped his phone as his vision slightly blurred from the tears that collected in his eyelashes and went to block the door. It was as if he was trying to block an assassin waiting to strike. Which, in fact, was what he was doing.

The brunette pushed an arm chair made of wool that was colored burgundy in front of the wooden, mahogany apartment door. If anyone knocked without revealing their voice, George wouldn't respond. He had a plan that he was going to follow through with. Even if someone managed to break through the reinforced door, George had managed to grab a baseball bat that had been lying in Clay's closet, since he used to play baseball. 

George had a blockade, a weapon, and a defense. He was ready to go to war, to fight for his life.

It wasn't necessary, though.

As George peered through the apartment window, he saw his father turn and walk away from the building, causing a sigh of relief to escape his lips. Thank god it wasn't his time.

Yet.

______________

As George was sitting on the couch scrolling through Twitter, there was a knock at the door with the familiar voice George knows and loves.

The brunette got off of the couch and walked to the door and opened it to find his boyfriend standing there, eyebrows furrowed as he was looking down at his phone. Something was clearly messing with Clay's head, and as much as George was curious to see what was so puzzling, he decided it was best to stay out of his boyfriend's business. He didn't want to risk their relationship, seeing as they might not have much time left together anyways.

Dream quickly looked up from his phone and his expression completely changed as a smile swiftly formed onto his face. His eyes brightened as his whole mood seemed to flip upside down. He snaked his hands around George's waist and pulled him in for a quick kiss, making the brunette's cheeks flush a bright pink. 

"You still get flustered from me, Gogy?" Clay jokingly stated as George rolled his eyes, yet a smile still radiated from his face. 

They weren't just lovers, they were best friends.

They were family.

"Oh shut up! So, anyways, the craziest and scariest fucking thing happened today," George paused before strolling over to the small kitchen to make themselves some nachos.

"I actually saw my father standing outside of the apartment building today-,"

"WHAT?" Clay freaked out, his mood completely obliterated again and morphed into worry and horror. 

"Oh it's fine! I blocked the door with a dresser just in case he got in and found an old baseball bat in your closet to use as a weapon if he broke the door down. He ended up not getting into the building so it was fine-," Clay interrupted with a shocked, almost pained expression.

"The baseball bat..?" His tone was as soft as ever.

At the handle of the baseball bat were carved the two letters of 'BP'; those were the initials of Clay's father. Before he went into the army, him and Clay would go to the park regularly, just to play baseball. They'd throw on some mitts and play catch, bring a baseball bat and take turns pitching to each other. They had a bond that every father and son should have; it was wonderful at the time.

Then his father was sent to war.

Ever since he got news that his father was shot down and killed, he has kept that baseball bat in his closet, scared to take it out and reflect and the memories. He was scared his emotional walls that have been built and kept up for so long would crack, and let all of the emotions out. He was scared he would have to relive that night.

Most of all, he was scared to break down in front of George.

George had so many problems going on in his life, and he didn't want to bare his problems on his shoulders. That's why he never told much about his life at first to the brunette. He didn't want to ruin things.

Although that may seem like a good idea at the time, keeping your emotions and keeping all of your problems to yourself? It's so much worse.

Eventually, the walls will crack.

Eventually, everything will come pouring out, whether that be through anger or grief or sorrow. 

No one wants to find out what happens when the emotional barriers crumble and evaporate. 

The walls will crumble soon.

No one will be prepared for when they do.

(1058 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day??? pog????


	34. wounds

(TW yelling, a bit of swearing, mention of su!cide)

When your walls crack, even just a tiny bit, everything will come crashing against the wall and tear it down. Everything will spill out, and it won't be pretty.

Whether it be for the better or worse?

It's hard to tell.

Clay's wall cracked.

George dug through his things and found the baseball bat of memories, the baseball bat of remembrance. He doesn't blame him for digging through his things, it was self-defense from his terrorizer, the real life nightmare.

But, when emotions spill, people say things they don't mean.

And it will hurt more people than one in the long run.

______________

"Why would you go through my things?" Clay spoke with an angry tone, almost mad that George got a weapon to defend himself. But, then again, he kept all of his emotions inside for so long that he needed to take that anger and sorrow out on something, and that something was George. 

He was risking his everything, yet he didn't seem to care, because he had tunnel vision. He was tunneling on the fact that George went through his closet, and not on the fact that he needed it to defend himself or else he would have been dead if Clark had managed to find a way inside of the room.

"I- I needed to defend myself-," George said with a shocked, nearly hurt voice. His eyes showed hurt, like Clay had just broken up with him. He hated when people got angry with him... especially when it wasn't his fault. It gave him memories that he was NOT fond of.

"Well you could have used a book or something," Clay stated with a nonchalant tone, rolling his eyes. He walked away from George and headed into their bedroom. The brunette followed quickly.

"Are you seriously upset about me getting ready to try and fight for my LIFE?" George was getting pissed now. How was it his fault?

"Why couldn't you have used a book or a lamp or something?" Clay kept spitting out words he didn't mean.

God, he was going to regret that later.

"Its a baseball bat, Clay!"

"IT'S MY MEMORIES" Clay bursted out with anger filling his yells. His walls finally broke and his emotions finally spilt out.

"YOU CANT FUCKING BREAK MEMORIES!" George shouted back, knowing he wasn't in the wrong. George, even though he has a major guilt complex(like me lololol), he KNEW he was right this time. 

Both may be spitting out harsh words, but both were gaining more wounds on the inside. The cuts kept getting deeper and deeper, and soon they wouldn't be able to heal.

"That is the ONLY thing I have left of my father and I dont want your father's fucking blood on it!"

That's where George drew the line. 

"You would rather keep a BASEBALL BAT than have me keep my LIFE? If that's how much I mean to you, we are done. I am not going to be with someone who values an inanimate object more than my life. Fuck you, Clay," George yelled with tears streaming down his face. God, why did that have to happen? He was happy, and now there he is, screwing everything up AGAIN.

"Wait, George-" Before Clay got the chance to apologize, George had already started walking. It gave him PTSD back to their first fight in this apartment. Out of every argument they had, most, if not all, managed to be about parental figures.

George was tired of getting treated like shit.

So, he walked away.

George walked out of the apartment, ignoring the yells of his name that were coming out of the blond's mouth. George walked out of the building, apparently forgetting the murderer that lurked on the streets. George walked to the place that gave him the most comfort; the field.

Tears clouded his vision, but he knew the general direction of the field. His walk turned into a run, once again, and then his run turned into a sprint, once again. His soul and body hurt from physical and emotional exhaustion. 

George needed a break.

George was hiding from his crazy father, he was hiding from his emotions, as well as possibly breaking up with his soulmate over a baseball bat.

The more George thinks about it, his overthinking kicks in his guilt complex. Why couldn't he have just apologized instead? He made the whole fight worse, in his mind. He thought it was his fault that they might be done and over with.

It really wasn't his fault, though.

Maybe it was for the better, that he walked away. Maybe not just George needed this, but maybe both of them would be better off without the other in the long run. 

Or maybe it wouldn't be.

All that George knew, was that he was hurting. Badly. His heart stung and ached worse than it ever had before; he never knew he was this attached to Clay. His eyes stung from the amount of crying and his body ached from the amount of running. 

His life was never easy. 

As he got in the center of the field, everything fell apart. His legs collapsed as he fell into the greenish-yellowish grass, it slightly pricking his skin. The sun was still out, the yellow rays painting the sky as a few clouds also scattered the sky that was like a canvas. The tears wouldn't stop flowing, his heart wouldn't stop hurting. 

Why did he have to screw everything he cared about up?

Why was he such a screw up?

Why was he still here?

That was a dark question he hadn't thought about in a long time; he hasn't thought about that since before Dream and him got together. 

George was falling apart, because of Clay.

The wounds that were just about to heal, opened again. The aches of his past, where the blond endlessly beat him mentally and physically. The wounds of his father and sister and mother. Every single wound was tearing at George's skin once again, and he didn't know if he could survive this time.

Time was finally healing the deep cuts, and now they were open again.

Time couldn't heal the same wounds again.

Could he really deal with the same pain again? Could he really be patient enough to let time heal the cuts once again, after all of that work? What else could he even do?

An idea, not a smart one, popped into George's mind. The hurt and guilt of the fight had overtaken his common sense. 

George sat up, wiping the tears of guilt out of his eyes so he could see properly. He scanned the street for the right house, Alex's house, and sprinted towards the building. All of the memories and nightmares were rushing back, and he hated it.

His mother calling him a murderer.

His father murdering his sister in his dreams and in real life.

Clay and Alex calling him a homophobic slur.

His attempts to take his life.

It was all too much for him. Heartbroken and in pain, it clouded his judgement.

Was this idea a smart and good plan? 

No.

Was he going to regret it?

George couldn't tell yet. 

All he knew was, was that he was tired of trying to be happier, and then failing, and trying to stop the pain, and failing. George was tired of failure.

He was going to succeed for once in his life.

But it wasn't going to be a good result.

(1296 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 chapters in a day? Pog?


	35. regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the last chapter lol
> 
> play a sad song idc which song just play a sad song

The air pushed against George's face as he kept running to Quackity's house. He kept sprinting, the heart ache clouding his judgement. There was one car in the driveway, signaling the parents were home, considering Quackity's car was not there.

Perfect.

George had spent a while researching when he was a little kid how to Hotwire a car, considering he already had plans to run away ever since he was little. 

Before Callie was taken away with his mother, they would spend hours planning and researching the best ways to hot wire a car and the best ways to save money, so they could live happily, away from the fear of being beaten.

They were so excited to get out of Rosefelt, to be happy. They wanted to be safe from the hurt and horror of their house.

Then their mother took Callie and left.

At least Callie got out then, but she didn't escape permanently. She came back for George, and it warmed his heart at the time.

It was a mistake, though. Now she's dead.

And George still holds the guilt of that to this day. He felt guilty; he felt as if the murder of his best friend, his sister, was his fault.

As thoughts of his sister recollected in the brunette's mind, he finally arrived to the car, heavy breaths escaping his lips from the amount of running. The wind felt amazing against his skin, it pushing the heat away from George. He went to the driver's side of the car, careful not to be seen from the windows. He tried unlocking the car to get in, and it opened.

Amateur move to leave a car door unlocked.

He quickly hopped into the car and looked for the place to hot wire the car. He was practically a professional now, as he practiced when he was little on his father's car. He never drove away when he was younger, mostly because he couldn't drive, but it also wasn't his time to leave his family.

It was his time now, though.

George found the wires and struck them together a few times before he heard the car rumbling, signaling the engine had started running. 

There was no turning back now.

George grabbed the steering wheel, taking a deep breath. Was he really about to throw his life away, just for a second chance at happiness that might not even work out?

Like he said, he wasn't failing again.

George put the car in reverse, put slight pressure on the gas, and reversed out of the drive way. He heard the door of the house open through the window, but it was too late. He had already started out of the neighborhood, the yells of Alex's parents slowly fading out. 

George's mind was racing with multiple feelings. He was slightly regretting leaving Alex and his probable soulmate, but at the same time, he felt his problems drifting away in the wind.

George was driving, but he didn't know where to. All he knew was that he needed to get away from Rosefelt, even if it was just for a little while. He needed to feel safe again, for once in his life he was finally putting himself first.

Would that be a blessing or a curse?

He didn't know yet.

As George drove through the town, he reached for the dial to turn the radio on. The song that was playing was already half way done, but the lyrics that played really hit George in the heart. 

Let's say we up and left this town

And turned our future upside down

We'll make pretend that you and me

Lived ever after happily...

That just rushed another flood of thoughts about his sister back into his mind. George, even though he was hurting, already wasted his tears on Clay. He had no more tears left to spend on another person.

Although deep inside of his soul he knew what he was doing was not a good idea, the pain had already overtaken everything. George couldn't stand living with the fear of being in the same town as his father; he couldn't handle the fear of seeing Clay again.

The one person he needed to text, though, was Quackity. The brunette may have been hurting, but he wasn't going to leave his friend hanging. 

Hey Q, uh I really am sorry. I'm sorry for ever hurting you before, I'm sorry for putting you through my shit, but most of all, I'm sorry for leaving. I can't be in this town anymore, it's like the town of memories that I want to push into the back of my mind. I can't stay in this town of broken memories anymore.

Goodbye for the last time, Alex.

I love you.

George thought he had no more crying left in him, but having to say goodbye to his best friend for a second time hurt a lot. It was only one tear, which he wiped away quickly. Although the pain of leaving his best friend was worse than he imagined, it was too late to back out.

He needed to leave; it was the best for everyone.

Maybe, if George left, they could forget about him. They could erase George from their memories, and learn to heal. Time would heal their wounds like it healed George's once upon a time.

He hoped they would and wouldn't forget him at the same time.

George wanted them to forget about him, he wanted them to be happy... but at the same time, he knew he would never forget them. In some ways, George wanted to disappear, but in others, he wanted to be a happy memory in the minds; he wanted them to remember him and smile.

Does that make sense?

Yes, at least it made sense to George.

As George drove and nodded his head to the song, letting his worries go, he heard a ding from his phone, a notification that he got a text.

George? Are you serious?

You're leaving me..?

I guess that's it. I love you, George.

Goodbye.

That's when he knew he made a mistake.

He might have been free, yeah.

But at what cost?

______________

Clay's pov

One ring, two rings, three rings, four. George wouldn't pick up, as he got sent to voicemail every time.

All Clay felt was regret. Why did he have to start a stupid fight over nothing when he KNEW he was in the wrong? Why was Clay so stupid? Why did he have to push everyone he cared about away?

Hatred for himself only grew as each ring passed through his ear.

Clay wished that George would just come back on his own time, seeing as he wouldn't even answer his calls. Clay wanted George to be happy, even if it was without Clay in his life.

At the same time, though, he really wished that it was all just a dream. That it was all just a nightmare, and that he would wake up in bed to the brunette cuddled up in his arms, and that they were still together and happy.

It wasn't a nightmare though.

It was real, and it stung.

Would George ever come back? Neither of the boys knew.

All that they knew was that they both did things they regret.

They would forever leave bruises on each other, inside and out. 

They were each other's light, yet at the same time they were each other's darkness.

They were each other's heart and soul, they were connected by an imaginary rope, that would always draw them together until it snapped.

That day, the rope had snapped.

It was over.

The bruises and the darkness overtook the light.

Neither of them would ever be the same.

(1310 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it wasn't too bad of an ending lol any who thank you guys so, so much for reading this story! you guys mean so much to me and writing this story really has helped me just smile. Seeing your comments make me look forward to the day and I thank you all so much for that. Love you guys<3 eat and drink something if you haven't already!


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